


Day 42

by KatharinTheDragon



Category: Drop Dead Diva
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatharinTheDragon/pseuds/KatharinTheDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>42 days after Jane kissed Grayson on the day she was supposed to be marrying Owen, she discovers something that will change all of their lives forever. Jane/Owen</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Day 42**

_I'm not the sort of person, who falls, in and quickly out of love_

_but to you I gave my attention, right from the start_

It had been 42 days since Jane Bingum kissed Grayson Kent on her wedding day. 42 days of drifting farther and farther apart from the man she was supposed to marry. 42 days of watching Grayson stare into her office when he thought she wasn't looking. 42 days of bumping elbows with Owen while trying not to apologize for the 42nd time.

"It's a pretty simple question," Paul had said on day 27 over his third plate of spaghetti. "Which guy do you love?"

"Pretty simple answer," she replied. "I love them both."

"Oh…" Paul nodded slowly, furrowing his brow. "Sorry, but heaven no longer condones polygamy."

Jane grimaced, "Yeah, well neither does California law. Nor do I."

Grayson was reaching out. He had refused to give up. He had, apparently, refused to apologize to Owen, and told anyone that would listen that he was in love with her. With her. After all these years of watching him from outside, her stomach curling every time his arm was wrapped around the waist of a new woman, she finally had what she had been waiting for. His heart.

Only she already had another man's heart.

And they both had hers.

**Day 36**

"If I wanted Grayson, I could have him."

"What?" Owen looked up from the papers he was buried in across her desk. He spent a lot of time on the other side of the desk these days. No smiles, no laughter, just his constant presence. If he wasn't ready to marry her, he was just as reluctant to leave her side.

"I said, if I wanted Grayson I could have him. Right now. "

"I actually heard you. It's just… kind of an odd thing to say."

"I know. Sorry. Just… trying to make a point."

Owen shrugged. "Still kind of missing my point."

**Day 37**

"I don't even get what you see in Owen."

Jane raised her eyebrows inquisitively. "Grayson, that's not really a conversation you and I and I can have right now."

"Just hear me out. The guy bumps around the office like he owns the place. He's been here, what, two weeks? And he practically has the intern saluting him."

"You just… you don't know him like I do. Like, when we were in Italy…"

"If I had come to Italy, would you have married me?"

She sighed. "I can't have this conversation right now, Grayson. We have a case."

**Day 38**

"Maybe the answer is none of the above," Paul said quietly.

Jane sighed. Even without asking she knew what he meant.

"I mean if you don't love one of them enough to let go of the other, then…" he trailed off.

"It's not that I don't love one over the other, it's that the idea of hurting one or the other makes it hard to untangle the love… I can't even find my own feelings. I used to love Grayson so much – we were going to build a whole life together. We had a _house_ and we were going to have _children_ and my parents _loved_ Grayson and… I still feel it deep down in my heart when I look at him, and when he looks at me.

"But Owen… he saw right into me, from the first time he saw me. And when I saw myself in his eyes, I actually liked myself. The new me. All of me. I saw myself pretty and interesting and when we danced it was like magic, like together we knew all the moves by heart, even before we'd learned them and when we made love it was even better. Kissing Owen was like… like travelling to Italy again for the first time.

"But kissing Grayson was like coming home again."

Like coming home again.

**Day 42**

She took the box out of the brown paper bag she had secreted it home in. Snuck it past Stacy – she knew Stacy would be the perfect person to talk to but not about _this_. Not until she knew either way. Either way was fine. Well, it wasn't. Not fine. Not really. But either way she could talk to Stacy, unleash the barrage of words that had been building slowly for the last two weeks.

Waiting, she remembered their last night together. Not the night before the wedding; they had been too busy, too tired then. Satisfied that all preparation for the next day was complete, they had fallen asleep on the couch, heads leaning opposite ways, fingers barely touching. Jane's stomach fluttered a little bit each time she thought of the next day. Sometimes her face flushed with anticipation, other times her gut clenched with fear.

But the real last night together – was that when it had happened? She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember. She remembered his rough cheek pressed against hers. Her nose bumping lightly against the side of his as she tilted her chin up to kiss his lips. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her firmly against him, growling her name against her ear.

She shook out of her reverie and glanced down at her verdict.

Positive. It was positive. One more complication, one more variable in the impossible equation that was her life.

She stared down at the little white stick, at the straight line and the little plus sign next to it. She bit her bottom lip. "Owen," she whispered.


	2. Day 43

**Day 43**

_It took the hand of God almighty, to part the waters of the sea,_

_But it only took one little lie to separate you from me._

_Oh, we are not as strong as we think we are._

When he sat across her desk, the silence was almost comfortable. Over the past six weeks, the silence had gone from crisp and tense to restricted but almost companionable. There was a short list of words that could re-chill the air around them, but as long as they stuck to work, they were fine.

Owen liked sitting in Jane's office. Much more than sitting in his own office, which was still lacking something. He hadn't quite defined what. He worked late into most nights, actively searching for more clients, stuffing his schedule as full of work as he could get it. If effort alone could do it, Owen French would be pulling Harrison & Parker out of the ground single-handedly.

But whenever he could find the excuse, he sat in Jane's office. If he had to deliver a case or a file, he would stay five, ten extra minutes to wait and hear her opinion on it – for professional reasons, of course. Over time, the need for an excuse diminished. He just came in… a lot… and stayed.

Today, when he walked in to her office, _he_ was already there. Grayson Kent. Standing just inside the door. Owen couldn't pretend that he had ever liked Grayson. He had enjoyed ribbing the attorney when they first met, but he had been so sure then that Jane loved him, and that Grayson wasn't any kind of threat. Now he was not only a threat, but one step away from being the one that conquered him. He didn't like that type of competition, he wasn't used to it, and he didn't know how to respond to it. Mostly he threw around sarcasm-laden words and stayed away from the man as much as possible.

"Morning Mr. Kent," he grumbled. He sat down in the chair across the desk as though he belonged there. "Good work on the Henning case. Jane not in yet?"

Grayson pointed his eyebrows at the empty chair. "Apparently not?"

Owen nodded grimly. "You two are working together on this," he waved a file in Grayson's direction. "Apparently it's one of your old files that's being appealed."

"I'll hold onto that for you," Grayson offered his hand.

Owen shook his head, tight-lipped. "I can wait for Jane."

Grayson raised both eyebrows. "Suit yourself." He sat down in the corner chair.

Three minutes passed in rigid silence. Finally Grayson broke through. "Why are you still here?"

"I told you, I'm waiting for Jane."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"Then please tell me, Mr. Kent. What do you mean?" Owen swung the chair around.

"You called off the wedding, everyone says you barely talk to Jane, yet you took a job at the office here and you're in her office every day. When are you going to leave?"

Just then, Jane walked in. Her steps were less sure than usual – Owen surmised that either she was upset about something or Teri had warned her that he and Kent were alone in the office together.

She glanced from one face to another, then set her bag down on the floor next to her desk. She smiled thinly. "Good morning, gentlemen. To what do I owe this… early morning company?"

"I have a case for you," Owen answered.

"For us," Grayson amended.

"For you, plural," Owen continued. "An old case you two worked on together a few years ago, actually. The Peterson case. There has been new evidence raised against Peterson and you are looking at a possible appeal."

"Oh… oh, wow, really? Um… okay, um, Grayson do you think you can handle that without me, at least to start? I actually need to visit the doctor this morning and I was only coming in to find out how things went with the Henning case and see if I needed to do anything for it."

Two sets of masculine brows furrowed and asked, nearly in unison,

"Is everything ok?"

"Is there something wrong?" that was Owen, talking over Grayson and nearly walking in front of him to get her attention.

"Yeah, um, thanks, I just… I need to go for a few tests. I don't really want to talk about it, if that's okay. Not yet." She smiled at them both, but they were being dismissed.

Grayson put his hand on her arm. "If you need to talk, let me know. I'll get caught up on this case and get you up to speed when you get back, okay?"

She smiled again. "Thanks, Grayson."

He walked, but Owen didn't follow. He waited until Grayson was out of earshot. "What time is your doctor's appointment?"

"It's at 10:15. Why?"

"I'd like to drive you, if that would be all right with you. You don't have to talk about it. I'll just wait in the waiting room if you want."

She looked at him in surprise. "Really? That's very thoughtful." She paused. "Yeah, okay. I'd like that."

They walked to his car in silence, the same almost-comfortable silence that pervaded their working together. He held the door to the car for her, a gesture that would have been charming if they were still operating in a functional relationship, but Jane found a bit stuffy under the circumstances.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Jane looked up and thought she saw Grayson staring out the window at her again.

"Where to?" Owen asked, pulling onto the expressway.

"Do you know the medical complex on Amelia Boulevard?" she asked.

"Oh, sure," he answered. "I don't go there, but I think Olivia does. Have you eaten?"

"I'm not hungry right this second, but maybe afterwards. Maybe."

He nodded. It was a thirty minute drive to the office, and they made small talk about current cases and changes in the law that were mutually interesting but not interesting enough to animate their words.

They pulled in and parked and walked quietly toward the lobby. Jane checked the elevator sign and they ascended. Owen looked quizzically at her choice, but she did not volunteer information, nor did he ask, even when they walked into the small office of an OBGYN whose name was understandably unfamiliar to him.

When the nurse called Jane's name he grabbed her hand and gave it the lightest of squeezes. "Do you want me to go with you? I mean, is it something very private, or is it something you're worried about and you might want moral support?"

Jane let out a deep, slow sigh. "You can come with on two conditions. One, promise not to look at me in the paper gown, and two, promise not to have a heart attack."

"I – okay, I promise…?"

Jane nodded. "Come on, then."

The nurse handed Jane a small cup. "The bathroom's right there," she directed.

Jane did as directed and carried the cup of nasty yellow liquid into the examination room. Avoiding Owen's eyeline as she attempted to carry a sealed cup of her own urine with as much dignity as possible, she handed it to the nurse.

"Thank you. Here's your gown," the nurse said. "We'll give you a few minutes to change, then the doctor will come and talk with you. You're due for a yearly examination but that won't take long. Everything else is pretty routine. Is this the father?" she gestured at Owen.

"The father…" Owen's eyes widened and his face paled.

"Yes," Jane answered softly.

The nurse smiled at Owen encouragingly. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," he said, his eyes still wide. He turned to Jane and made eye contact – nearly the first time since the start of the day. "Congratulations?" he said hesitantly.

Jane shrugged her shoulders coquettishly, smiling, but her lips were trembling and her eyes were fearful, searching his. "Why, thank you, Mr. French."

He dropped into a chair and heaved a deep sigh.


	3. Night 43

**Night 43**

_The glass is cut, the bottle run dry, our love runs cold, in the caverns of the night._

_We're wounded by fear, injured in doubt, I can lose myself, you I can't live without._

On the drive home, neither one knew how to begin the conversation. Owen attempted to bridge the gap. "So… are you hungry?" he asked quietly.

"Not particularly," she answered.

"Yeah, me neither," Owen frowned, his stomach grumbling slightly.

"Are you… angry?" Jane asked slowly.

He huffed. "About... this? About a baby? No. God no. How could I be angry about a baby? How – when did you-?"

"I just found out last night, Owen. So I'm still in shock myself."

"And they got you in to see the doctor the next day?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, I called this morning and I was a bit… um, frantic? and they had a cancellation…"

He made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a snort at the thought of the frantic phone call. "Oh, I just bet."

They were quiet again.

"It changes a lot," Jane said softly after a while.

"It, um… it changes some things," he agreed. "We need to talk."

"Well, I've tried to talk to you, Owen, but you have yet to let me finish," she said, shaking her head swiftly in indignation.

"That's… slightly more than half true," he admitted. "But when we have talked, you haven't exactly been forthcoming. Not to mention-"

"Yes," she snapped, cutting him off. "I know. I'm the one that kissed someone else. Well, actually, I kissed him back, which I suppose is nearly as bad."

"Oh, very nearly," he answered dramatically.

Jane sighed.

"Let's have dinner," he said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

He raised both eyebrows meaningfully.

"You want to have dinner?"

"Let's have dinner and I'll hear what you have to say," he repeated.

"Okay. Where shall we eat?"

"I'll drive. I'll pick you up at 8, and we'll try not to stay out too late, because I'm sure you're tired."

"I'm fine."

"Okay, you're fine. I'm sure you're fine. But you're also pregnant and you're going to get tired, if you're not yet."

"I said, I'm fine, Owen."

"Okay, I'm just saying, we'll try not to stay out late."

"Fine," she responded cuttingly.

"Fine." They drove along in silence again.

"You and _Grayson_ have a bit of work to do this afternoon, but if you need anything, I expect to be in my office for the rest of the day."

Usually Owen referred to Grayson by his last name. When he said it like that, with the heavy emphasis, it was one of those words that brought the chill back. She couldn't even bring herself to respond.

* * *

Jane left work early – working around Grayson was even more painful than working around Owen. His eyes were always on her. She had to be so careful what she said – it was still hard, after the years that had passed, to not refer to old friends or old times or shared interests. Occasionally, it was still hard not to reach out and touch him in an intimate way, grabbing him by the arm or pressing a kiss to his cheek when he looked so sad.

At the same time, her brain worked differently now. Where as Deb she would accept his feelings at face value, as Jane, she was analyzing them – was he being manipulative? Was he fixating? What would actually happen if they were together? How long would he have been interested in her? Would he love her as much as he had loved Deb? Would she even be able to keep from telling him?

It was mentally exhausting and now she had a completely different set of problems to worry about.

So she left early, assuring Grayson that he could handle it all, and that she just didn't feel well, and went home. She changed her clothes into something pretty but not too inviting – no need to try and use her wardrobe to influence Owen. At least not that he would notice. She chose a sweet black dress with a wide red belt and brushed her hair out. Then she threw on an apron and baked. It seemed like only half an hour later when the doorbell rang.

She greeted him at the doorbell with a friendly smile. "Hello, Owen. Is it 8 already?"

"It is. Kent tells me you left early. Are you feeling all right? We can postpone this-"

She cut him off. "I'm fine. I was just feeling crowded."

He nodded slightly and gestured to the car. "Shall we?"

He led her into the restaurant and Jane recognized the scene immediately. It was all dark except for the candlelight at one small table in the middle. A glass vase with a single rose stood in the middle of the tablet.

"Well," she said with a little smile, "There aren't too many men who would rent out an entire restaurant for an evening – twice."

He winked at her then, "That's true, there aren't. Like I said before, the owner is a friend."

He walked to the table and pulled out the rose from the vase. "This is for you. It's a special kind of rose."

"That's nice, thank you. Very pretty. What kind of rose is it?"

"It's a shut up rose."

Jane chuckled. "A what?"

"A shut up rose." He smiled. "It's something my mom used to make Olivia and I do when we were younger. We had a shut up stick. While one person is holding it, they are allowed to say whatever they need to say. And the other person-"

"Has to shut up." She wrinkled her nose and chuckled again. "That's cute."

"I thought so."

"Well, Owen…" Jane fingered the thorny stem, turning it over and over in her hands, careful not to stick herself. "The truth is, I want to hear you, first. I've been trying to tell you that. I want to hear how angry you are and I want you to let all that out. I know I was the one that was wrong, and I will talk about that. But I really want you to talk first."

Owen frowned. "I see."

Jane extended the rose. "So, please, Owen. Tell me. I promise I will listen."

"Fine." He grasped the rose and shook his head. "I still don't feel ready to talk. I'm afraid I'll explode at you."

"Please explode at me, Owen. Just this once."

"Okay…. Fine." He frowned again. "Here goes…. how could you kiss Grayson? Why did you kiss Grayson? How long did you love him? Have you slept with him? How could you look at him like that? No, SEE." He pounded his fist lightly on the table. "I can't… I can't even articulate because I don't know what happened. I know what I SAW. I saw you… in your wedding dress… five minutes AFTER we were supposed to be married – with your mouth against his… goddammit Jane…. and then you saw me, and your face turned red… a wrong kind of red.. and then I felt my heart give out… metaphorically.. And then literally and… that fucking _Grayson_ guy, with his smirk and his Kent-doll looks. Why did you like him better than me, Jane? Why did you ask me to marry you if you wanted to kiss him? Did you- did you sleep with him, Jane? Here, I really want to know that. No, I don't. But I really do-"

He handed her the rose, then. A drop of blood slowly wound its way down his wrist. He wiped it off with a napkin.

Jane closed her eyes. She remembered being Deb. She remember lying next to Grayson on mornings when she had still been in her twenties. Sitting in his lap in the big armchair in the living room. Waking him up early on Saturday mornings just to be together, just to make love.

She had been someone else then.

"I never slept with him, Owen. I never even kissed him before that moment. I never even knew he looked at me that way. I swear. I swear… on our unborn child's life." She extended the rose out to him.

He didn't take it. "But you loved him?"

"Answering that question is a long story."

"I think I'd rather a long story than a simple denial, Jane."

"Okay. Fine. I'll talk." She set the rose down.

"Did I ever tell you about the day I died?"

He nodded slightly. "Gunman, Parker, married woman, brave attorney, miraculous reawakening-"

"Yeah. Well, I died that day. I really died that day, Owen. You can check the records. And then I came back." She breathed deeply. "When I came back, I was a different woman. Ask anyone. I dressed differently. I acted differently. I still had… my own brain. But I lost a lot of my memories. I was a different person. Ask Teri.

"I probably never told you that Grayson came to Harrison-Parker that same time. His girlfriend died… at the same time as me. The same date. He interviewed at our firm and came to work the next day. And when I saw him, I just – I loved him. And he had just lost Deb and I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn't. He didn't see me. I mean, he did. He thanked me for getting him the job – I don't know how I met him or how I got him the job, Owen, I can't remember any of that, those memories are gone. But he started dating Kim… geez, almost right away. And then there were other girls that he dated, too, always someone. I even helped plan his wedding. And we were great friends. But I did, I loved him.

"And then, just when I was completely heartbroken, someone told me to get over myself and move on. So I decided to do it." She straightened her posture and her jacket, nodded sharply. "That was the day – the day we had dinner. You and I. And you loved me for who I was. And when I was with you, I actually liked myself. It was wonderful."

She looked at him, then. His shoulders were slumped and his face was crestfallen. "Owen-"

"So… I was your second choice, and then on our wedding day, you found out that your first choice actually loved you after all. So, of course you kissed him."

Her eyes widened. "Oh – oh, no, Owen, that's not what I said. I mean, OK," she gestured wildly, "I suppose that is one way to look at it but-"

He didn't say anything, but his eyes were rimmed red. He swallowed hard.

"Let me… let me tell you a story," she said.

"Jane-"

"No- please." She grabbed the rose. "Shut up, Owen," she said firmly.

He glared at her, but nodded silently.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl who had made herself sick over the same man over and over again, but he never noticed. She sang him songs, she gave him gifts, and she gave him all of her time, but he just wanted to be friends. One day she decided to let him go and she gave her heart to a good man - a different man.

"When she gave her heart to someone else, he took good care of it. Actually, not always." She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "He didn't actually know how, at first. But he did something _amazing_. He _learned how_. He offered to take her to race boats," she laughed, "but she didn't want to, so when she wanted to go to Italy instead he changed his plans for her…. Big plans. He took her everywhere she wanted to go in Italy, and when she wanted to go home he went with her… and every day with him was better than the last and when he actually asked her to stay with him forever…" she trailed off, staring into his forlorn face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You were right, there's no way to go back there." She set the rose down. "But you know what? I still want to try. Maybe we can… make something better."

"I just wish you had been honest about your feelings for Grayson," Owen said.

Jane barked a laugh. "Oh, really, Owen? You would have wanted to know how I felt about him, seriously? Hey, I'm in love with you and I want to spend my life with you. Oh, but, hey, just so you know, that guy that's always hanging around? Yeah, I've been nursing feelings for him for the last three years. Just FYI." She tossed the ends of her hair and glared at him.

He chuckled mirthlessly and shrugged in acquiescence, "Well… it doesn't really make me feel any better, Jane, but I am willing to try to move forward. That's the best I can do right now."

"I guess our food is cold."

He pointed at the plates, "Cold turkey sandwiches and gazpacho. I wasn't actually sure if we'd get to it at all so I asked him to make something cold."

"Well, aren't you clever?" she sniffed.

He sighed. "Hey, let's do something different." He pushed his chair out and picked up his plate, then walked around to her side of the table. "Let's not talk anymore."

He sat down in the chair next to her and put his left arm around her shoulders. It wasn't really comfortable for either of them but it was good. They both ate and ate some more. Owen sheepishly carried a bottle of wine off the table and back into the kitchen, returning with a pair of non-alcoholic spritzers. "Sangria for the lady?"

"Thank you," she said softly. "They drank in silence, a new kind of silence. There was more pain in it, but less anger.

"I guess I should head home for the night," he said when the tall cups were drained and they were picking at sugared apple slices.

"I was wondering… if you'd like to come home with me for the night," Jane replied. "You don't have to stay or anything, and we can talk or not talk, but – I made those cookies you like. And you can write down the sangria recipe for me. No strings attached."

He hesitated.

"Please?"

"All right." He smirked slightly. "Like I can really resist a pretty girl inviting me home for cookies."


	4. Day 44

_And if you need somewhere to rest,_

_somewhere to lay your head, you know where to find me._ _Stay with me._

When they arrived at Jane's home, the plate of cookies was on the bar, along with a tall pitcher of water. Stacy was sitting on the couch. She was holding a pillow in her lap and the expression on her face was a cross between worry and confusion.

"Oh, hello, friends," she said in her sweet musical voice.

"Hello, Stacy," Owen said.

"We were just going to have a plate of cookies and do some talking," Jane said pointedly.

"Oh, that's nice," Stacy answered. She grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on. An infomercial for exercise equipment was playing. "I was just in the middle of a Grey's marathon. Don't mind me." She turned the volume up three notches and clicked over to the DVR, turning away from them.

"O….okay," Jane said slowly. "Um, shall we take our cookies into the bedroom, Owen?"

"I suppose," he answered.

Jane closed the door behind them. "Did that seem weird to you?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "But then it's Stacy. She doesn't always conform to the generally accepted social contract."

"Fair enough," Jane responded. "Cookie?"

"All right." He accepted one and pulled her desk chair over to the bed where she was sitting. He sat down at an angle from her.

"Did you want to talk about the baby at all?" she asked.

"Not yet," he answered. "I'd like to get everything else straight in my head first."

"Okay," she nodded.

"If that's okay," he added quickly.

Jane nodded quickly, "It's actually fine with me. I mean, we have time, you know?"

He nodded in agreement. "If you need to hear that I am going to love and provide for our child, you can rest easy about that," he said gruffly. There was a slight catch in his voice.

"I guess that's all that really matters," she said, brightly but without enthusiasm.

"For now," he said. If you want to talk again later, we can. I promise."

"Okay," she said. "You know what, Owen?"

"What, Jane?"

"I really am actually tired," she said, and it reflected in her drooping voice.

He smiled for real this time, and it actually reached his eyes just for a moment. "I'll go. You get some sleep."

"You… I don't want you to go yet. Stay a little longer, please?"

"Well…" he paused, "go get dressed, then, and I'll stay until you fall asleep."

Jane changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed. "Good night, Owen."

He leaned down and laid a light kiss on her forehead. "Good night, Jane."

He pushed the desk chair back where it belonged and removed his suit jacket, laying it over the arm of the purple upholstered chair in the corner opposite her bed. Opening the door very slowly and quietly he slipped out to use the bathroom. And bumped into-

"Owen!"

" _Kent_! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I - could ask you the same."

"I'm spending the evening with my - with Jane, obviously. And now we're back to you."

"Well, I was using the bathroom," Grayson answered, nodding.

"Well, you might want to go back in. You forgot your shirt. And your… shorts."

"Um…right, thanks." Grayson ducked back into the bathroom. Owen waited two minutes but Grayson did not exit. He needed to use the toilet, so he crept around the couch, where Stacy was still watching TV – the infomercial was on again - and went in to use the guest bathroom.

When he walked back to Jane's room, _Grey's Anatomy_ was back on the television, though the room was darkened. Stacy waved sweetly at him from under her Snuggie and he waved back at her. Grayson was nowhere to be seen. Confused and more than a little irritated, he grabbed a blanket out of the guest closet and crept back into Jane's room. He sank into the purple armchair, and settled in for a long night. He was tired, but he certainly wasn't leaving now.

* * *

**Day 44**

It was 5am when he woke. Jane was still asleep so he decided to leave before she could wake and ask why he had stayed the night after all.

"No need for her to think _I'm_ the stalker," he muttered under his breath. He threw his jacket over his arm. Not the most restful night, but he felt a little better than he had yesterday or the day before.

"What's that, Owen?" she mumbled under the covers.

"Nothing," he said and kissed her forehead again. "Go back to sleep. You've got an hour before your alarm goes off."

"Okay," she mumbled again and snuggled down into the covers.

Stacy was still on the couch under the Snuggie. The television was off, now, and the only light was the sun just beginning to creep into the windows. He tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, Stacy."

"Hmmm?" Stacy stretched out her arms. She opened her eyes and nearly jumped out of her skin. "Oh my God! Owen?"

"Hi." He shaped his lips into a half-smile. "Good morning, Stacy." He cocked his head to one side questioningly.

"Good – um, morning – what time is it?" she asked.

"It's 5 o'clock in the morning. Do you know why Grayson Kent was here last night?"

"Who…?" she asked.

"Grayson. _Kent_." he enunciated.

"Oh – um, no he wasn't. Grayson doesn't come here at night," she smiled. "Going back to sleep, now. Good morning, Owen."

* * *

When Jane finally got to work, her thoughts were very muddled, but she felt pretty happy. Happier than she had in 44 days. Of course the fact that she'd most likely be running into Grayson (and possibly be plunging right back into uncertainty) at some point was threatening to rear its head and put a damper on the day, but she was keeping that at bay. For now she was concentrating on trying to work things out. Moving forward to something positive, whatever that might be. She greeted Teri cheerfully.

"Good morning, boss," Teri said. "I have – what's up with you?" She narrowed her eyes. "Did you have _sex_ last night?"

" _No_ , I did _not_." She scowled. "Can a girl not be cheerful without her assistant leaping to dirty conclusions, please?" she swept her hair back. "For your _information_ , I had a nice dinner with Owen."

"And then he spent the night?" Teri asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"No," Jane nearly squeaked. "Well," she rolled her eyes and smiled. "Okay," she giggled, he voice dropping into conspiratorial tones, "actually, he _did_."

"Ha!"

"But we did not," she lowered her voice further to a hiss, " _have sex_ , Teri!" She smiled. "We just talked. It was _nice_."

"I'm sure it was," Teri grinned.

"Seriously."

"I believe you," Teri grinned. "Oh, and Grayson's in your office."

"Ah. Great."

Teri smiled.

Grayson was already seated across her desk, with the contents of their case spread out in front of him."Good morning, Jane. How are you feeling today?"

"Better, thanks." She smiled winningly at him. "Have you made any progress?"

"Well, I went down and talked to Peterson last night-"

There was a knock on Jane's door. Grayson huffed. "Well, that didn't take long."

Owen poked his head in. "Hey, sorry to interrupt, Jane. Grayson, Kim would like you to come and bring her up to speed on the Peterson case. She's taking over as lead."

"I-what? But I was doing fine," Grayson sputtered.

"Oh, yeah, absolutely. You're doing great. Just, Kim wants to work with you on it. She has some other things she wants Jane to take care of."

"I see," Grayson frowned.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," Owen smiled meaningfully at Grayson.

"Sure, no problem." He gathered up his papers. "See you later, Jane."

When Grayson was gone, Owen turned to leave, too.

"Hey…" Jane stopped him. "I think I deserve an explanation for that."

He shook his head, "Not a big deal, Jane. I think Kim honestly just wanted to be more hands on with this case."

"And the fact that you had to bring the news yourself?"

He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. Fair. I might be trying to give the impression that I'm putting Grayson in his place."

"And I told you I've already let him know I'm not interested. You don't need to do that for me, Owen."

"Well, he's still hanging around."

"We work together, Owen. That's going to happen."

"Not exactly what I mean."

"Okay, then what do you mean?"

He made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Well… it's going to sound really strange but when you fell asleep last night… Grayson was in your bathroom."

"Grayson. Was in my bathroom."

"Yeah. The main one by the living room."

Jane frowned. "Are you sure, Owen?"

"See, I told you it would sound weird. Look, let's drop it for now. Forget I said it, okay? At least until I figure out what is going on."

She cocked her eyebrow in confusion. "Okay. But… please, Owen, please don't mark your territory around my cases."

He sighed. "Yeah, seriously, Kim wanted the case."

"I believe you."

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." He turned to go again.

"Oh, hey, Owen."

"Yes, Jane?"

"Don't tell anybody about... about the baby yet, please. They say it's bad luck during the first trimester, and… I don't really know what to tell people about us, yet. I don't want people feeling sorry for me."

"Jane?" He gave her a stern frown.

"Yes, Owen?"

"I promise I won't tell anybody unless you want me to. But I also promise that nobody will feel sorry for you as long as I am around."

She smiled a bit. "Thanks, Owen."


	5. Day 52

_**Day 52** _

_Will the eagle fly if the sky's untrue?_

_Do the faithful sigh because they are so few?_

_Remember when I cried, remember when you knew?_

_Remember the look in your eyes? I know I do._

The next week passed uneventfully. If you hadn't known any differently – and most people hadn't – you would have thought things were exactly the way they were before the quiet dinner in the darkened restaurant. Owen still came and went out of Jane's office as much as he had been doing previously. Jane and Grayson continued to smile at one another, with Grayson still watching while he thought no one saw. To the unobservant viewer, nothing had changed.

Teri was no unobservant viewer.

She had been Jane's assistant for a long time now, and she knew what too look for. What had changed? Seemingly everything, and nothing was adding up.

For starters, there had been the day that Jane and Owen had gone to the doctor - together. Big red flag with rather obvious connotations but Teri was keeping that juicy information under her hat for now. That same day Jane had left early, obviously distraught.

Returned the next day happy, after a supposedly sexless dinner with the big bad fiancé.

But more strange were the changes in Jane's would-be beaus. Owen had returned early the next morning - fresh clothes, fresh shower, but eyes red-rimmed and slower response times in conversation, apparently exhausted. If it was true that Jane hadn't kept him up all night, something else - or someone? - had. But he had been home. On the same day, Grayson was just the opposite: he definitely hadn't been home. His suit had been recently pressed but it was the same one he wore yesterday. He looked well-rested but slightly distracted. He frowned more than usual, as though disgusted with something - himself, perhaps?

An interesting thought occurred to Teri - could her boss be burning both ends of that particular candle? She snorted in amusement at the idea. It wouldn't be like Jane to be that blatantly immoral, but then again, neither was it like her to kiss another man on her wedding day.

If nothing else, Teri liked the idea enough to jot it down for her next self-published erotica.

"Ahem."

Teri looked up sharply. "Elaine!" It was Jane 's mother, standing at Teri's desk, dressed to the hilt in lavender and looking angry. "Elaine, is Jane expecting you?"

"Jane is not taking my phone calls, as you are aware, Teri. I have left messages but she hasn't called me back since the day after the wedding fiasco. Is she in?"

"Well, she is here," Teri nodded measuredly, "but I think she was about to go for lunch."

"Perfect. I'm just in time, then. Now, Teri, on my way over here to your desk I caught a pair of familiar eyes on me. Was that who I think it was in the corner office?"

"Yes. Owen works here now." Teri nodded.

"Well, that's a bit odd, isn't it? I thought he was a judge. Not to mention, from what Jane said, I assumed he was deathly ill to postpone the wedding 'indefinitely.'"

Teri pressed her lips together., "I guess he got better."

Just then, Jane walked out of her office. "Mom! What are you doing here?"

Elaine smiled, "Great to see you, too, honey. I was worried sick about my girl, and I popped in town to see if you and Owen would take me to lunch."

"Oh! Oh, well, that's great, Mom, but why don't we just have lunch together, just the two of us? I mean, It's been so long…"

"Well, we certainly could, honey, but why would we? Your fiancé is only an office and a half away. I caught him looking at me when I popped off the elevator. What a pleasant surprise to see him here! I'm sure he'd love to join us."

A deep voice rumbled in response, "Well, of course I would, but if Jane wants to have quiet time with her mother, who am I to get in the way?" Owen had joined them at Teri's desk. "I saw you coming in. Nice to see you again, Elaine." He came beside her and offered her a friendly hug.

"Oh, come on-" Elaine pulled him teasingly by the arm. "I'm hungry and you're paying. I still haven't caught up with you two since the wedding that wasn't. I want to see how things are."

"Well, I would be honored to take you two beautiful women to lunch, but only if it's all right with Jane."

Jane studied his face a moment, "Are you sure you don't mind, Owen?"

He released himself from Elaine's grip and offered Jane the crook of his arm, "My pleasure."

He took them to an upscale casual restaurant only a few blocks away. Jane ordered a huge Caesar salad, he ordered a stuffed pork chop and potatoes with a Coke, and Elaine ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and a glass of wine.

Elaine inquired politely about Owen's health, Jane's work schedule, and any interesting office gossip. She exclaimed at their good fortune at being able to work together and clucked at Owen's poor meal choices for his health.

Finally, there was a lull in conversation and Jane pushed her plate away. "Mom, we haven't told anyone else this yet-"

Owen's eyebrows went up in alarm.

"-but I am pregnant."

Elaine's fork clattered to her plate. "Really?" She looked at Owen for confirmation.

He nodded, "Really." He smiled weakly and raised his soda glass to her. "Congratulations."

She clinked her wineglass to him. "And to you, Dad."

He took a slug out of his glass, "Should have ordered a whiskey."

Jane chuckled and sipped at her water, "Well, I appreciate the solidarity." She winced. "On that note, I need to use the restroom. Again." She politely excused herself.

Elaine watched her daughter leaving, then turned back to Owen with a smile. As soon as Jane was out of earshot, she dropped the smile and ambushed him. "Okay, spill."

"Excuse me?"

"Jane thinks everyone with an IQ less than 140 is stupid. But I am not stupid."

Owen chewed his food intently. "How do you mean? Jane doesn't think you're stupid."

Elaine rolled her eyes. "Two months ago, Jane was showing signs of getting cold feet. She is late to the wedding, and that pretty boy from the office goes to find her. You follow him five minutes later and have a," she drew air quotes, "heart attack. Now suddenly there's no wedding." She cocked her head and looked at him. "I'm not stupid. Something happened back there."

"Okay." He drew a deep breath. "So you're not stupid."

"So what happened?"

He tapped his fork against his plate. "That's really Jane's place to-"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "Jane won't tell me and I'm not going to ask her."

"I still can't. I'm sorry, Elaine. You know I really like you and I want you and Jane to get along, but I have to honor Jane's privacy."

"All right, then how about this. I'm just going to guess."

Owen said nothing.

"Pretty boy goes back to find Jane in a mental and emotional pickle and you go back to find Jane crying on pretty boy's shoulder. Something like that?"

Owen cleared his throat. "Not quite."

"Not.. not canoodling with pretty boy?" she look genuinely surprised.

Owen said nothing.

"Whew… "Elaine took a swig out of her goblet. "That had to be rough. I wouldn't have thought he had it in him. And yet here _you_ are."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Here I am, Elaine."

"So is this whole lunch just a show for my sake? Are you two - are you done?"

"No, no, nothing like that, Elaine. I mean," he paused pensively, "I actually love your daughter, and she says she loves me, too. Says, it was… all 'in the moment.' That she did care for him, but…" he bit his lip really hard. "She won't actually say she doesn't love him, just that she's turned down his multiple offers and she wants us to stay together."

"Wow." She sipped at her goblet again. "And you two are going to raise a baby?"

"I guess. I mean, I want that, of course, but I don't know if that's really what Jane wants or if she's just trying to absolve herself of guilt or if she's just trying to keep us together for the baby or... I just don't know. And Kent is still hanging around like there's a queue and he's trying to hold his place. I feel like he's waiting for me to slip up so he can swoop in and fix everything."

"Well…" Elaine raised her glass to Owen. "Good luck figuring all that out. What's your big plan?"

He shook his head. "No big plan. I've never been this confused in my entire life. What my brain says to do is walk away. She obviously cares for Kent, why should I get in the way of that? There's never been anyone else for me, why should I want any less in return?"

"A fair question. What does your heart say to do?"

Owen speared a potato with his fork. "Kick his ass." He almost smiled.

Elaine pointed her index finger at him, "I like that plan."

He chuckled. "You would."

"Well, that may not be a great idea, but - _Hello_ , Janey. Took you long enough."

"Thanks for pointing that out, Mother. What were you two talking about?"

"Oh, Owen here was just telling me what a hormonal mess you've been since you found out. Poor darling. I told him what you really need is a couple of new frocks and a spa day for two. Of course he gladly offered to pay for it." She smiled wickedly.

"Mother! That is so presumptuous! And - for your information - I can pay for my own spa days!"

Owen chuckled deeply, "Elaine, I like the way your mind works. And I'd gladly pay for a spa day every weekend if it would help my fiancée be a bit more… relaxed."

"Well, technically you aren't engaged anymore," Elaine said pointedly. She glanced at Jane's hand. "No ring. I'm sure Janey appreciates the sentiment anyway."

"Oooh," Owen frowned. "She does have a point."

"Well, maybe," Jane said. "But, FYI, Owen, just to point this out," she flipped her hair, "it's _not_ my turn to propose. I did it last time." She narrowed her eyes then. "What have you two _really_ been talking about?"

"Nothing," they both answered quickly.

"By the by," Jane's mother asked breezily, "What _is_ the proper term for a woman who's carrying your child but you aren't currently married or engaged to?"

"Um… _girlfriend_?" Jane asked witheringly.

"No, that's not it," she said thoughtfully. "Hmmm… what is that word?"

"Baby-mama," Owen said gravely. He speared another potato, popped it into his mouth, and smiled.

Jane nearly spit out her water. "WHAT?!"

"That's the one," Elaine said, grinning like a monkey. "That's how you should be introducing her, Owen."

"That… is _so_ not _funny_ ," Jane growled.

"So, just to clarify, that is _not_ how I should introduce you at formal functions?" Owen chuckled.

Jane huffed. "Obviously you two are getting along a bit too well. As it happens, I have to go back to work."

"Oh, don't be cross, Janey. We're just ribbing you. It's stress relief. I've been so nervous that you haven't called since the wedding was called off. Owen and I had a nice chat, and I'm very glad things are going well for you two. I really hope it continues that way. You have a great man in this one. If he wasn't so stuck on you I know a few others who might be interested." She winked.

Jane flared her nostrils. "Thank you, Mom. I think."

Owen stood up. "Jane's right, though, we do need to get back to work. Elaine," he bowed slightly. "A pleasure as always. Call me anytime."

"I think I just might," she smiled. "The spa day for two was intended for Jane and me, of course."

He smiled. "Of course it was. Can I drop you off somewhere?"

"No, thanks, I'm taking a cab."

"All right, we'll see you later, then."

Jane hugged her mother and they departed in peace.


	6. Day 57

**Day 57**

_Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the open arms of the sea._

_Time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. Are you still mine?_

It was a rather boring series of random events that led Grayson Kent to be riding along to question a potential witness in Owen French's vehicle. If you lined up every single human in the 25-story building where Grayson worked, Owen would have been last in line for people he would like ride along with. But life was funny, and flat tires were merciless.

They drove along in relative silence at first, but it was a very long drive.

"How are things going with Kim and the Peterson appeal?" Owen asked to try and fill the oppressive silence.

"Fine. Jane and I could have handled it." Grayson wasn't interested in keeping the peace.

"Yeah. No doubt. Jane's an incredibly gifted attorney."

Long pause.

"Maybe next time you shouldn't take work out of her hands, if you think she's so talented," Grayson said quietly.

Another long pause.

"Maybe next time you shouldn't underestimate her for four years before someone else comes along to point her out," Owen retorted.

"Wh-what?" Grayson sputtered.

"Why don't you just admit that you didn't think Jane was attractive until you saw her with another man? You worked with her for years and never gave her a second thought, then -bam- she's got a boyfriend and suddenly she's hot."

The highway roared underneath them, but the space between those two men inside the car was near-silent.

Finally, "You do realize she dated before you, Owen. You're not, like the first guy she's ever been out with, or anything."

Apparently Owen really didn't like having his argument rationalized. His face turned a darker shade of red. "Maybe not, but you and I saw a lot of each other when she and I were dating. You didn't see her other boyfriends that much. You saw us together. You saw her in that context and she looked good. That's all I'm saying. "

Grayson bit his lip hard. "You know, you can be a real dick, Owen. I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this, but the fact is I'm sick of working in between you two and feeling like the bad guy. Yes, I did, I suddenly saw her differently, and yes, it was while you two were dating, but it had nothing to do with you. If anything, the fact that she would go out with an arrogant douchebag like you would be a turnoff."

"Please, Grayson. Tell me how you really feel about me."

"See, the truth is, it was actually Stacy who changed everything. She - she said Deb wasn't dead. She said - she said Jane was Deb." He stopped talking then, realizing how it sounded out loud.

Owen coughed to hold back a biting laugh, somewhat unsuccessfully. "She said Jane was your deceased girlfriend? That's convincing."

Grayson shook his head. She denied it afterwards. She says it's not what she meant - but it is what she said. And I - God, I wanted that to be true so bad. I started looking into reincarnation. I bought books about spirits and past lives. And I started researching Jane, too. And you know what I found out?"

Owen nodded, "Sure, that Jane was shot the same day your girlfriend died."

"Yeah. You knew about that, huh? Not just the same day, Owen. I'm talking within half an hour of each other. And there were these idiosyncrasies about Jane. I'd introduce her to an old friend, and she'd hug them like she knew them her whole life life. Or, when the firm represented Debs parents in their divorce, Jane cried."

Owen chuckled, "That just sounds like Jane."

"Yeah, I know that now. But if Jane was Deb, it would... it'd have explained so much. Eventually I disproved it, but then, like you said, she looked completely differently to me after that."

"Okay, so how did you disprove it?"

"Really? I thought you'd be laughing your ass off by now."

"Do you have a better topic of conversation for us?"

"All right. I'll bite. There was a song."

"A _song_?" Owen asked incredulously.

"Yes, a song. After we saw _Ghost_ together - Deb loved that movie; she talked about it for weeks - every time she heard "Unchained Melody" she'd just burst right into tears. I thought, even if there was just, maybe a piece of Deb in her, and maybe she didn't even know - don't laugh, dude - that would definitely still affect her."

Owen was staring hard at the road, not even glancing over at Grayson as the story unfolded.

"So, at dinner one night, after a big win for Jane and me, I played the song for her and she blew it off. Totally blew it off. She made fun of the lyrics and trivialized the movie. Deb would never have laughed at _Ghost_ , never."

"I see," Owen said. Goosebumps crawled up Owen's arms and snaked down his back. He knew exactly was Grayson was talking about, but he remembered that meal very differently.

Owen had arrived late to the dinner, while Kent had been getting a pair of drinks from the bartender. Jane was surprised to see him - swore she hadn't texted him - and she was holding back tears.

_"Please don't tell anybody what sap I am."_

_"It'll be our secret," he had assured her, squeezing her hands, heart swelling protectively."I promise."_

"And after that, you didn't question it anymore?" Owen asked.

"Yeah, I mean obviously it was stupid to begin with. Who even thinks about stuff like that, right? But I couldn't un-see Jane. I really saw her now. How sweet and sharp and caring she was, you know? How being around her made me feel better, you know?"

"Yeah. I know."

Owen didn't say anything more. He was processing intensely. Grayson had thought Jane was his late girlfriend. Then had dismissed the thought because Jane didn't cry at a song.

But she _had_ cried. And she hadn't wanted Kent to know.

_"It'll be our secret. I promise."_

Was he just buying into Kent's grief?

_"I died. And when I came back, I was a totally different person."_

_"I loved Grayson, but he didn't see me."_

"Hey, looks like our time is coming to an end, Owen. Traffic's finally moving. Hey, Owen, you still with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking. How it's hard to be a lawyer and still be a human."

"Ha ha."

"At the end of the day Kent, I'm always going to be a better lawyer than you are."

"Gee, thanks, Owen."

"No, hear me out. You're right. I can be a dick. I'm good at being right. I need to be right. But you, you're always going to be better at people, and I respect that. In our job, we are literally paid to prove with excruciating detail how right we are. And I'm better at that. But that's not going to make me a good father or a good husband."

"So your closing argument is that I'd be a better father than you would?"

Owen chuckled, "Jury's still out on that one, Kent."

"Well let's hope you're right about the father thing."

Which, much later Owen would think was a strange thing to say - he hadn't mentioned the baby, and he didn't think Jane had mentioned it to Grayson yet, either. But at the moment he was too preoccupied.

* * *

"Olivia - Olivia I'm sorry for calling the house. Your cell number wasn't working."

"It's one o'clock in the morning, Owen. It's on silent. Is everything ok?"

"Can I ask you something, Olivia?"

"Oh my God, Owen, are you drunk?"

"Maybe - maybe just a little bit. I just have a quick little question and then you can go back to bed."

"Your nephew has school in the morning, Owen. Make it quick."

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

"Oh my God, Owen, are you serious? What is she doing to you? Jane did something, didn't she?"

"Just answer the question. Do you think that people can be destined for each other? Like, even after death?"

"Owen, you know what I believe. I am a _practicing Catholic,"_ she said emphatically _, "_ I believe in free will. None of that fate crap."

"So no soul mates?"

"No destiny, just choices. Soul mates, yes, but that's just a regular part of marriage. You get married, you become soul mates. That's it. You pick, you choose."

"That's kind of dull, Olivia."

"That's theology, Owen. Nobody said it was supposed to be fun. You asked the question."

"Asked and answered. But you and Brian divorced. So, I guess the soul mates thing was pretty worthless, huh?"

"Our marriage was annulled, Owen. We never had it right to begin with. We were not... soul mates. Ever."

"So you still believe in it? You think you and Alan-?"

"Alan and I are just getting started. We'll see. It might be a good thing. Maybe you and Jane just moved too fast."

"No, listen, I just, it's not about me and Jane. I was just wondering what you thought about the concept."

"At one in the morning? Okay, Owen, so does Jane believe in soul mates?"

"Now that's a good question, Olivia."

"Go ask her. I want to go back to bed."

"All right. Sorry, Olivia."

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Sorry, Olivia. Night."

"Love you, Owen."

"You too, Olivia."


	7. Day 63

**Day 59**

_When I'm losing my control, the city spins around,_

_you're the only one who knows, you slow it down._

Dear Jane,

_I'm leaving. I didn't want to run off without telling you, so this is your notice. I think I understand – as much as a man can understand a woman – about you and Grayson. Doesn't mean I'm giving up. But I'm selfish enough to want to have you all to myself, and if I don't give you and Grayson a chance to be something, I feel like I never really will. So please, do whatever you have to do while I'm gone. I swear to God when I come back I won't ask any questions, and whatever you tell or don't tell me won't count as a lie._

_Parker's coming in town for a few weeks to get up to speed so he can help me manage while Kim's on leave. It's really vital that everything goes smoothly. Rather than pay three partners until she takes off, I offered to do a little unpaid soul searching. I think Parker understood a little too well. I'll be back when she's due, or if the baby comes early I'll rush back. I'm not taking my phone but if you need me for something I'll find my way back, trust me._

_Still yours,_

_Owen_

When she looked up from the handwritten note, he was standing in her office, glass doors closed behind him, watching her read.

"Oh! I thought-"

"I wasn't going to leave without really saying goodbye," he said softly. "Just didn't trust myself to say all the words out loud."

"You're really not taking your phone?" she asked.

"I'm taking a phone, but I'm not giving you the number. I don't want to wait for you to call. Parker has the number, so if you really need me just tell him to ask me to call you."

"I don't understand why you're doing this."

"Yes, you do," he answered hoarsely. "See – see if you can make it work with Grayson."

"But, Owen, I don't want to do that. If I wanted to, I could have already done that. I told you that," her brow was furrowed in anger and her voice was taught.

"I know," he answered. "But I'm always around now, whether physically or mentally, so you have to weigh your feelings for him against your feelings for me. I'm giving you a chance to think about it without worrying about me. I'm going to go sort out my life – you stay here and sort yours out."

"Owen-"

"I can't tell you what to do or how to feel, Jane, I'm not trying to. I'm doing this for myself. Right now I just feel like I'm keeping you from him, and I feel like shit about it. I can barely sleep. I can't concentrate on work unless I'm in the room with you, I can't – I can't live like this for the rest of my life. So give me a break, okay? I'll be back, and if you want me when I come back, I'm all yours. But you have to decide that on your own, not while I'm watching over your shoulder."

She said nothing, but she looked genuinely hurt. She looked as bad as she had when he walked back to find her on their wedding day.

"Come here," he said gruffly.

She stood up from her desk and walked over to him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean to be such a jerk." She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. He crushed her to him. They stood like that a few moments. Then she let go and he released her reluctantly.

He looked down at her, studying her for a moment. He cupped her face in both of his hands and brushed his lips against hers slowly, achingly aware that it had been two months since their last proper kiss. She responded in kind, moving instinctively to deepen the kiss, but he held her face steady in his hands and released her. "Goodbye, Jane," he said.

* * *

On his way out, he slipped a small piece of paper and a folded up bill to Teri. He crooked his finger at her and she leaned close. She loved the conspiracy.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, "there will be roses on that desk. If and when they wilt or she takes them home, text me. Keep me posted, and there will be another one of these when I get back."

"Are you leaving?"

"I'll be back in a few weeks."

Even folded up that small, Teri knew what a hundred dollar bill looked like. She grinned. "Not a problem. I've been paid less to text."

So much for staying out of her life while he was gone. But he had promised no one would feel sorry for her, and now he was leaving. No one could feel sorry for a woman with a bouquet of flowers on her desk. At least he hoped that was how it worked.

* * *

Jane sat down at her desk dejectedly. She pulled a post-it out of her desk drawer and jotted down a quick to-do list for the weekend.

_Mani-pedi_

_Shapewear sale at Nordstorm's_

_Flirt with Grayson?_

It wasn't hard to come up with an excuse to go to Grayson's office. If she smiled at him through the door, she knew he would invite her in. She wondered, absently, if he knew that Owen was gone and if he did, if he knew why. She did it, then, she walked by and smiled at him, and he waved her in.

"Hey, great news," he said brightly, "Kim and I nailed the Peterson case."

"That's fantastic, Grayson. I heard you were going to be in court today, and I wanted to see how it had gone."

"Kim nailed it. She was fantastic. It was really all her. Oh – you could have done just as well, though."

"Oh, I don't care about that, Grayson, honestly. Kim hasn't taken a case from me in a long time – being pregnant _and_ a partner seems to agree with her."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "That's true. She's been downright pleasant. Except that part where she recruited a partner from outside instead of promoting one of us, but hey, that's Kim."

"Oh, wow, I never even thought of that," Jane admitted.

"Which is pretty funny, since you always wanted to be a partner. As much as you do for this firm, you deserve to be a partner. I guess the fact that it was Owen distracted you from the fact that it wasn't you," he smirked.

"I guess I've just been preoccupied," she admitted. "Did you hear Parker is coming back in to help manage while she's on leave?"

"Yeah," he said, "I heard Owen is out of town, too. Guess that was too much ego for one office."

She tried to chuckle but she didn't find it that funny. True, possibly, but not funny. At least not coming from Grayson.

"I'm sorry," Grayson said, sensing her hesitation. "Can we start over?"

"That would be nice," Jane said. "I was actually just wondering if you were going out to celebrate your victory."

"Really? We haven't done that in a while."

"Really, Grayson. So?"

"I guess I am now." He smiled at her. "Where shall we go?"

* * *

**Day 63**

Days 61 through 63 Owen spent in Las Vegas. Vegas was supposed to be the place to go for a man with a broken heart. He wore a dark suit and a dark jacket with a red power tie – he thought maybe Jane had mentioned that blue ties were more in fashion today – but he didn't care, he wanted red. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he knew it was right; he looked the part.

He withdrew enough cash to look like a high roller, not a tourist, and then locked his real credit cards into his suitcase. He was down the first day, then caught up at the tables on day 62. He was making friends as easily as he used to. He told a lot of exaggerated stories about sailing and judging and made people laugh, even when they lost to him. He bought drinks for himself and those around him. People were drawn to his energy.

On day 63 he was joined by a cute blonde in her late twenties with blue eyes and nice ankles. She didn't seem to want to place many bets of her own, just wanted to stand in his shadow and reflect him, and that felt good. He felt more like a man than he had in two months, stronger than he had since the first heart attack.

When he decided he was going to take a late lunch break, she followed him. Standing in line to eat with him, she tugged on his tie, pulling his face down to her level, grinning up at him and whispered something, not quite explicit, but definitely promising. He felt himself grow rigid and hot at her words and made a joke, something self-deprecating, the kind of joke that from a man in his position, just meant 'don't stop.'

She touched his arm and laughed encouragingly, a light, musical laugh, but when she did he saw how empty, endless and blue her eyes were. They were missing the warmth and the brownness and the sweet spirit that he loved. He dismissed himself suddenly, as quickly as he could without hurting her. He took her number on a napkin and did not promise to call.

He fled to his room, tossed the napkin in the hotel trashcan, stuffed everything in his large suitcase, and checked out without bothering to cash out. He hunted for his car in the vast parking garage – it took him an extra fifteen minutes of wandering around between seemingly-identical silver Civics because his brain wouldn't focus - then floored it across the desert. It took only one rushed hour to get from that lunch line to the open highway. He never bothered eating lunch at all that day; he just drove.

He checked into a sleazy motel in Palmdale, not sure where he really wanted to go next. He ordered pizza, watched a stupid old comedy and fell asleep with the TV still on. That night, the girl was there in his dreams again, crystal blue eyes, loose blonde hair, tugging at his tie, pulling his face down to hers. But then the fever broke. Blue eyes were replaced with warm brown ones and in his dream it was Jane who was loosening his tie and throwing it in the trashcan on top of a crushed napkin, unbuttoning his steel grey shirt, tracing the outline of his scar with her mouth, with her tongue.

He woke at four-thirty the next morning from a deep, violent sleep. He stripped the bed in disgust and balled up the sheets, piling them into the corner to spare the motel staff from having to deal with it.

Later, over black coffee, he pondered where to go. He had a friend with a beach house in Dana Point. Far enough south that he wouldn't feel the need to run home. A quick phone call and only a few awkward questions later, he had the address, the location of the key, and the welcome to stay for as long as he liked.

At least by the ocean he would be able to breathe again.


	8. Day 64

**Day 64**

_Right from the start, you were a thief, you stole my heart, and I, your willing victim._

_I let you see the parts of me that weren't all that pretty, and with every touch you fixed them._

The first dinner with Grayson had been slightly awkward, as they learned what topics of conversation to stay away from. No Owen, not too much Kim, and even talking about Stacy made things feel weird. So at first, they stuck with pop culture. That was easier than it used to be – the first two years of being Jane, talking to Grayson without giving away the fact that she was really Deb inside was almost impossible. She had felt then like tiny Deb trapped and screaming inside the crushing, soundproof padded room that was Jane's life.

Enough time had passed now that she could almost fake it without thinking too hard. She had new artists she liked, new movies she loved, and she even knew things about Jane's childhood that she could throw in now and then. She felt comfortable in her skin. Close to it, anyway.

But, as fun as those easy conversations were, they were short-lived and unsatisfying.

Then they moved into current affairs and current cases. Here they were able to spark. They made fun of Kim's emotional outbursts over the past few months and discussed case law at length. This felt differently than it ever had before. She had always been looking admiringly up at Grayson before, as though he were something better than her, something to aspire to. Now that he was interested in her as a woman, she felt very differently. She felt confidence and poise, the same things she radiated in the courtroom, which was her stage, but now she felt them around Grayson, too. That was good, very good.

Then Grayson had invited her to a Pink concert on Day 64. Jane wasn't a huge Pink fan, but on the other hand, she hadn't been to a good pop concert in a year or so. Pop music wasn't exactly Owen's forte. So she and Grayson went – and clearly Grayson liked Pink even less than she did. But they still had a lot of fun, even singing along obnoxiously to the songs that neither of them really knew. At the end of the night, Grayson walked her to the door of her house. She did not invite him in.

"I had a really good time tonight, Jane," he said warmly, holding her by the hand. "Even when that bouncer accidentally spit on me."

"Me, too, Grayson," she returned the warmth of his smile. " _Especially_ when the bouncer spit on you."

"We should do it again, soon," he continued.

"Okay, let's. I hear Justin Bieber's coming in town," she smiled evilly.

"Oh, that's funny, Jane. Very funny." He chuckled and shook his head. "You always know how to make me laugh." He was leading her close to him, very gently by the hand. He ducked down to kiss her and she closed her eyes. It was a very soft kiss at first, but he then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for more. His lean body felt very different against hers than Owen's did. That was only the second time she had thought about Owen all night.

Her phone rang, only once, not even long enough to register a caller ID, but it was still enough to break the spell. She backed off, politely, loosened herself from his grip, smiled at him. "Good night, Grayson."

* * *

"When were you planning to tell me that this is what was going on?"

Jane woke rather suddenly to the sounds of shouting outside her bedroom.

"If you were listening to what I said at ALL you would have realized!"

"I was listening! I knew that was the plan but I didn't realize the plan was for RIGHT NOW!"

Jane sat bolt upright. It was Stacy and a man – and she thought almost definitely that the man was Grayson.

She popped her head out the bedroom door. Grayson was standing just inside the front door in tight-fitting jeans and a polo shirt, Stacy was in her robe. They both stopped shouting when they saw her.

"You guys realize it's four am on a Sunday morning, don't you?" she asked with a yawn. "...what's going on?"

"Nothing," said Grayson. He left immediately and slammed the door, hard.

" _Nothing_ is right," Stacy answered. "Good night, Jane."

Jane lay in bed until the sun was well up, wondering what she had done wrong.

* * *

Stacy clutched her pillow tight, sobbing into the silk case. She was trying so hard not to be loud, hoping Jane would go back to sleep. More than that, though, she was hoping that Jane would _not_ go back to sleep, that she would instead pound on the door and ask her what was wrong. She really wanted to talk about it. She really, really wanted to talk about it.

But the knock never came.

* * *

"So, I don't know what exactly you and Grayson were fighting about, and I kind of got the impression that you didn't want to talk about it?" Jane eyed her friend questioningly. "But I was wondering if it would be appropriate to invite him over for a game night, just the three of us?"

"A game night," Stacy smiled. "I like that idea. Pictionary, Trivial Pursuit, Mad Gab, that kind of thing?"

"Yes! And I will make my world-famous avocado dip, and you can pick up some chips and salsa from La Fiesta."

"Oh, I love that idea. Do you think he'll come?"

"I'm sure," Jane responded, "that if I ask _very sweetly_ , he will come. I don't like it when my best friends fight."

Stacy wasn't so sure.

* * *

The first night at the beach, night 64, Owen bought a tall bottle of whiskey and drank half of it. He almost called his sister Olivia twice, and actually dialed Jane's number once but only to hang up before it could really ring. He burnt his hand pretty badly building a fire on the beach, but then he got it roaring and toasted s'mores and hot dogs for himself and felt a bit like a human again.

The wind was wild and cold. He pulled up a beach chair and sat in front of the fire, watching the flames without seeing anything at all. He felt everything he could possibly feel and let it all burn.

The next day, he rented fishing tackle and stayed out all night fishing off a long pier. He caught nothing except a little fresh air. He went home at six am, poured the rest of the whiskey bottle down the kitchen sink and slept in until two in the afternoon. He only thought about Jane kissing Grayson three times – the entire time when he was fishing, the entire time when he was falling asleep, and the entire time when he woke up. But thinking about it a lot was actually freeing, especially while sober. He turned it over and over in his head until it was boring. Just another fact about Jane – she had loved Grayson before she loved him. Hardly hurt anymore. She also snored sometimes. And she liked pop music. And she had a smile that outshone the sunset over the ocean. And a fierce determination to be on the side of justice. These were all facts about Jane, and if he loved her, he had to accept them all at face value.

He wasn't there yet, to accepting them all. They were like a fair hand just sitting out there in front of him. He just hadn't decided if he wanted to fold yet.

He went fishing again when the sun set, and that was when he met Luis.


	9. Day 65

**Day 65**

_I just want to drink til I'm not thirsty, I just want to sleep til I'm not tired_

_I just want to drive til I run out of highway, under the purple sky._

_Are the fields all painted up in red and blue?_

_Are you thinking of me the times I'm thinking of you?_

Rather than go to the public pier, on day 65 Owen decided to fish off of his friend's much smaller pier just down the beach from the house. He knew the odds of catching anything there were slim, but he was more interested in the solitude than in seafood. He dressed warmly and pulled the beach chair out on to the creaking wooden slats. He cast his line into the water, secured his rod, and promptly nodded off.

"Hello," a deep voice woke him. He looked up sharply. A Hispanic man in his late fifties was standing over him looking puzzled.

"Oh, hello. I wasn't expecting anyone. I didn't hear a car, either. Must have fallen asleep."

The man extended his hand and smiled warmly. "Luis Cotón. I keep the grounds and my brother's wife does the housekeeping while the owner's away." The man had a lyrical Spanish accent.

"Owen French," Owen shook the man's hand solidly. "I'm imposing on Fred's hospitality for a few weeks. Just me. Hopefully I won't make much work for your sister-in-law. Are you the man to ask where I can rent a boat?"

"A boat, Mr. French? What kind of boat?"

"Just Owen, please.," He smiled. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I just want to go out on the waves. I used to sail regularly but I haven't gone out in over a year. I'm kind of anxious to get out there."

"Have you sailed around Dana Point before?" The man asked cautiously.

"No, no I haven't. I'm from a bit farther north. I'm a good sailor, though, I've mastered a lot of different kinds of water. I'll catch on."

"Really?" the man looked skeptically amused, "You look more like a doctor than a sailor."

"I'm a lawyer, by trade," Owen admitted, "but I used to sail all the time. I was actually invited by a team to train for and compete in the Americas Cup, but I declined it."

"Interesting. Well, there's some rough sailing out there, and if it's been more than a year I wouldn't recommend going out by yourself. I have a proposition for you, though."

"All right, I'm listening."

"I take Mr. Vann's boats out about once a week just to keep them maintained. I'm taking one out tomorrow afternoon. If you want to come along, I'll put you to work. See if you still remember how to sail," he smiled winningly.

"Hey, I didn't even know Fred kept boats. That would be perfect. Thank you, please count me in."

"Can I pick you up?" Luis asked. "1:00 in the afternoon?"

"That sounds great."

* * *

**Day 66**

Jane set up a sturdy black card table in the middle of the living room and lined the bar with multi-colored tortilla chips, three different dips, and bowl of iced non-alcoholic sangria. She indulged in the mani-pedi, successfully crossing off all items from her to do list, then dressed up in a pink blouse, black frilly skirt, and a smart black mini-jacket. Time to wait for her friends to arrive.

3:00 came and they were not there yet, 3:10 and she began to be concerned.

3:15 they arrived, laughing, with a pink box. "We bought you a cake, Jane," Stacy laughed. "Sorry we're late, but we had to pick it up from the bakery."

Jane cracked the pink cardboard box and burst out laughing. The cake was iced in white and red, with beautiful black script letters that read, 'Sorry We're Late.'

"Oh my God, you guys are so silly. Done fighting then?"

"Oh, we weren't really fighting," Stacy answered. "Just a misunderstanding."

"A miscommunication," Grayson agreed.

"Great! Come in and get comfortable. She gestured to the loveseat and the chair. Shall I cut this very silly cake for us?"

"Yes, please," said Stacy.

"I also brought wine, if you'd like some, Jane," Grayson said with a smile.

"I'll pass on the wine – I intend to beat you both at Monopoly tonight – but I made a virgin sangria if you'd like to try it."

"Great," Grayson answered. "I'll put it in the fridge, then, if that's okay?"

"Of course – did you want any wine, Stacy?"

"No, that's all right. I'll try the sangria, too," she smiled. She sat down on the couch. Jane pursed her lips in annoyance. She had expected Stacy to choose the chair, as she usually did. Then she and Grayson could have sat on the couch together. Maybe Stacy could have observed them together and gave Jane advice as to whether it was working or not.

Instead, Grayson chose the chair, and Jane sat on the opposite end of the couch with Stacy in between them.

"Great," Jane smiled. "Let's play Monopoly."

They laid out the game. Grayson chose the little car, Jane the top hat, and Stacy the dog.

"I wonder what the dog is supposed to symbolize," Grayson pondered.

"Well, he's really the only cute piece," Stacy responded. "Couldn't we have played Twister instead?"

"Um, no," Jane answered. "Monopoly is a game that you can actually talk while playing. And it lasts a very long time."

"The longest ever game of monopoly lasted 70 days," Grayson said.

"Wow, I really don't have that kind of time," Stacy said.

"Aw, Stacy's just afraid she's going to lose," Grayson grinned.

* * *

In the meantime, Owen was in his element. He was physically exhausted; clearly, he had more work to do than he expected to get back in sailing shape, but he was enjoying every minute.

"Luis, thank you so much for taking me out here," he said when they finally had some downtime and Luis was quizzing him on knots. "You were right, it was good to go out together."

"No need to thank me, Owen. _De verdad_ , I had my own reasons for inviting you. I could have directed you to any number of rental places."

"Reasons, eh? What would they be?"

"A few of my friends and I have a little team that sails. Sometimes we are short a member or two. I wanted to see if you could really sail or if you were just a tourist," he chuckled.

"Ah, and what's the verdict?"

"You'll do, Owen. You'll do. I'll have to introduce you to the other men and see if you get along."

"Do you race, is that what kind of team it is?" Owen was getting excited at the idea of doing something on the water again.

"No, it's something a bit different. You'll see." Luis grinned.

* * *

By 7:00 Jane had acquired all four railroads, Stacy was controlling the utilities and the pink towns, and Grayson was having a steady run of luck that was yielding him all the blue and all the purple towns. It was only a matter of time, now, before he wore them both down.

Jane was bored. Stacy had been bored before they started. Grayson was genuinely enjoying himself, but Jane could tell he wouldn't be for much longer. "Do you guys want to go out?" she asked suddenly.

"Out?" Grayson asked. "To eat? I'm not really that hungry."

"To have fun. I think there's a Karaoke night at Zesty's tonight, isn't there, Stace?"

"I'll check their website," Stacy said. She looked relieved. "I think you win, Grayson," she added with a grin.

Jane drove – Stacy rode in the front with her, again confounding Jane's seating arrangements. She was beginning to get a little irritated. Did Stacy not realize that she wanted to sit with Grayson? That she was trying to give him a chance? She was beginning to wonder if Stacy didn't want her to be too close to Grayson – maybe she was worried about her friend or maybe Owen had said something to her? But that didn't make any sense – Owen had made it very clear that he wanted Jane to give it a try.

* * *

A few hours later, Owen and Luis were relaxing on the deck with a can of lemonade each watching the sun set. They'd have to sail back in very soon, but Owen wasn't eager to do it.

"So tell me about the woman," Luis said evenly.

"What woman?"

"The one you're hiding from," Luis answered.

Owen scoffed, "I'm not hiding from any woman," he said.

Luis snorted, "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize lawyers take trips in the middle of October just for fun."

"I'm not hiding from a woman – just… giving her a chance to work out what she wants," he grumbled.

"Ah," said Luis. "Well, that's much better. Much more macho."

"Cheers," answered Owen, tipping his can of lemonade in Luis's direction.

* * *

Jane took the stage with a smile. She blew a kiss at Stacy and began to sing slowly, "You're just too good to be true – can't take my eyes off of you-"

She wondered where Grayson was. He had left for the bathroom before she had put her name in to sing, and he still hadn't come back yet. Stacy was sitting at the bar watching her friend and smiling.

"You'd be like heaven to touch – I want to hold you so much-"

There he was, coming out of the bathroom area. He sat down next to Stacy and she gestured to the stage. He grinned and waved a little wave at Jane. She blushed and smiled.

"-and I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you," she grinned meaningfully at Grayson and winked at him. But he wasn't watching; he was talking to Stacy again.

She belted out the notes now in perfect pitch, "I love you, baby – and if it's quite all right, I need you baby, to warm the lonely nights-" If she had nothing else in the world, she could sing. She remembered being a teenager and singing out her heartache and rejection – woah, that was one of Jane's memories. Where had that come from? It must have been so visceral that it imprinted itself on her body, so she could feel it when she sang. That was kind of cute. She wondered if Britney, the girl who used to be Jane, could sing, and if she missed it if she couldn't, or if she just didn't want to anymore.

"Oh, pretty baby, don't let me down I pray, Oh pretty baby, now that I found you stay –" but they hadn't stayed. Stacy and Grayson had gotten up and were browsing through the karaoke book now. They weren't even looking at her anymore.

She finished the song, deflated. She laughed and smiled for the rest of the evening, but she felt hollow inside. She tried to tell herself that it was selfish to want them to pay attention to her song, but she'd picked it to sing to Grayson, and he hadn't cared or even noticed. She tried to be mature about it, but she just felt as though the whole evening had been stolen away from her.

* * *

"So this woman that you're not running away from," Luis badgered as they tied everything down for the night. "Beautiful?"

Owen sucked in a breath. "Love at first sight. Didn't even believe in such a thing before."

"But you don't want the same things, hmmm?"

Owen pressed his lips together and answered reluctantly, "Well, no, in the sense that I want her and she wants someone else."

"She left you?"

"Not exactly. She says she wants to stay."

"But…?"

"Oh, all right, sheesh, Luis. We were getting married and she was late to the ceremony, and I found her kissing this other man, all right?"

Luis was quiet for a while. "Sorry, Owen, I didn't know."

"She wants us to stay together, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"You don't love her anymore?"

"No, I do, I just… I don't know anymore. She humiliated me and that guy humiliated me. And then to be really stupid, I took a job at her firm – she's a lawyer, too - working over both of them. I can't seem to stay away from her, but neither can he, apparently."

"Ouch, man, why would you take a job there?"

"The firm isn't doing that well. It's really been suffering from poor leadership for a while. I had this stupid idea that if I couldn't be her husband, I could still provide for her by taking care of the company she worked for."

"Damn, Owen, that's romantic," Luis laughed. "Marry me, instead."

Owen chuckled, "If I can sail with you every day, I might just think about it."

"So, what, she and this other guy, they spend time together at work? They dating now? Doesn't seem like much of a guy if he'd kiss another man's woman on their wedding day."

Owen shrugged that off, "He's not a bad guy. Don't get me wrong, I can't stand the guy, we've rubbed each other wrong since day one. But he lost his girlfriend in a car accident a few years ago and I get the impression that he's been floundering since then."

Luis nodded. "And your girlfriend?"

"Like I said, she says she doesn't care about him anymore, that she wants us to be together. She hasn't gone near him except at work since the wedding, if that's what you're asking. Well, I mean she hadn't when I left. I kind of told her to date him while I was gone."

"Wow, okay. Well, we're good for the night, Owen. I've got a run to make tomorrow with the other guys so I need to get to sleep. 7 am this time. You in?"

Owen smiled, "Yes. Absolutely. But no girl talk this time, all right? Just sailing. I'm trying not to think about it. Trying to let my brain work it all out on it's own."

Luis grinned. "We'll be too busy to talk tomorrow, Owen, don't worry."


	10. Day 67

**Day 67**

_I am a new day rising, I'm a brand new sky, to hang the stars upon tonight._

_I am a little divided - do I stay or run away and leave it all behind?_

_It's times like these you learn to love again_

Six in the morning on day 67 came very early. It had been only just over a week since he had left the office behind, but his sleep schedule had been so erratic that waking up early was painful. He felt his age. He pulled his creaky old bones out of bed and dressed for the day. He didn't bother showering again – he had rinsed off when he returned last night and he knew he'd need to take a full shower when he returned home again after whatever adventure today was keeping for him.

At 6:45 – early – Luis was in the kitchen, sipping black coffee and handing a mug to Owen. "You'll need the caffeine, my friend," he said with a smile. Owen choked it down – it was like black tar – and expressed his dubious appreciation. Luis laughed joyfully – clearly Owen had passed a test – and patted him exuberantly on the back. "Let's go, man. We have stops to make before we can brave the waters this morning."

Instead of the rather ordinary car that Luis drove yesterday, today he was driving a shady-looking 15 passenger van. There were two men in the van already, and they waved at Owen as he climbed into the first back row.

" _Buenos dias_ ," one of the men said politely.

"Morning," Owen replied as amicably as he could manage with a half-sleeping brain. He hoped the coffee would kick in soon.

Luis gestured to the man next to Owen, a man that looked around the same age as Luis, with a smile that matched his "This is my brother Tony," and to the man next to him in the front passenger seat, "and this is Tony's son Nico. Nico understands English but can't speak it, or won't, not sure which," he chuckled, "and Tony doesn't understand a word of English, unless it's a nautical term. Tony's wife is Nora, the woman who does your washing. You might see her and her grandson Nicquito around often while you stay in Señor Vann's house.

Owen nodded. " _Mucho gusto_ ," he said politely. "I don't have much Spanish," he apologized. "I guess living in southern California I should have learned, but I never got around to it."

"Nobody's perfect, Owen," Luis laughed. "Two more men to pick up, and then we get to work!"

They stopped at one of the manor houses and a young white man ran out as soon as they hit the driveway. He couldn't have been older than 17. "Morning, Padre Luis! Beautiful day today!" he exclaimed. "Hey, who's the new guy?"

"Paul, this is Owen. Owen, Paul. Owen's going to be helping us make the run today."

"As a sailor or a donor?"

Luis chuckled. "A sailor for today."

"Excellent! Great to have you on board, Owen! Sail much?"

"I used to. Getting my sea legs back, I admit."

"All right," Paul grinned. He was dressed in upscale sailing gear, in contrast to Luis's family who were wearing more serviceable clothes – sturdy but not fancy, and put through a lot of wear.

Then they drove into town, hooked through a couple of alleys and pulled up behind a large brick building. A tall, lanky man was standing beside a pallet of rough cardboard boxes. They stopped beside him and everybody exited the van. With no instruction, they started loading the boxes into the van.

The lanky man nodded toward Luis, then squinted at Owen. " _Padre, quien es el gordo_?"

Luis scowled at the man's words. "Morning, Max. This is Owen. He's a lawyer from L.A. and he's going to be joining us on the run today."

Owen extended his hand politely to the man Luis called Max. Max shook Owen's hand limply, but did not meet Owen's eyes. " _Por que_?" he asked stiffly.

"He's a good man, Max," Luis said quietly. "He's a sailor, too, and he might be able to help."

The man huffed. " _Buena suerte,_ Owen."

" _Gracias_ ," Owen said, crisply. He couldn't remember what _suerte_ meant, but coming from this man's voice it didn't sound pleasant. "What are we doing, exactly, Luis?" Owen was starting to get a knot in his stomach. He was unsure whether it was excitement, fear, or a heady mixture of both.

Luis grinned. "We're men on a mission, Owen. _Vamonos!_ " At his command, the van was loaded up, closed, and all the men piled back in. They headed down to the docks.

* * *

The boat they rode in was bigger than the sailboat Luis had taken Owen out in yesterday, and they really needed every man on board to keep things running smoothly and quickly. The boxes they'd brought were loaded up and they took to the water quickly, heading southwest. They ran along at a steady clip and the wind was with them. The boat was on the shabby side and had been repaired many times, but it was strong. It reminded Owen of the clothes the men were wearing – practical, good quality, but they had seen better days.

Owen was impressed at how well the men worked together – clearly this was not the first trip they'd taken together and he guessed it wasn't their first time taking this route, either. Two hours of fairly high speed sailing later, one of the men shouted that they were almost there.

_Almost where_? Owen wondered. He saw it, then, a low-laying island heavily dotted with structure, with a long thick line of trees cutting it in half lengthwise. It shouted with color and life. "Is that where we are going?"

Max, ten feet away from him, laughed sharply.

"So, yes, then? Where is it?" Owen asked.

"Santa Juanita," Luis answered softly. " _Bienvenido_ , Owen."

"Yeah," Paul scoffed. "Welcome to hell." His tone was jocular but his face was even.

* * *

There was a makeshift pier on the far side of the island. They docked there and unloaded the boxes. There was a small crowd of children waiting for them to arrive. "Padre Luis," the children cried jubilantly, crowding around him.

"Go away, _niños_. I have nothing for you," he bellowed mock-angrily.

One of the children, a little girl that appeared about five years old pounded on his legs. "We don't believe you, Padre," she said softly.

"Ha!" he snorted. "Ask Paul, then. I brought you nothing."

Paul, the young man who had been so exuberant on their voyage down, was only slightly less enthusiastic than he had been at 7. "Hmmmm," he said loudly. "I know I brought some candy for these wild children. Where could it be?"

"In his pockets like last time," one of the boys said nodding wisely. He looked to be about 9 and was the oldest of the bunch.

"Come and check, then, Timmy" Paul answered with a grin.

They bombarded him, then, _en masse_ , and fished out the pockets of the long rain jacket he had thrown over his gear right as they disembarked. Sure enough, the pockets were full of hard candy.

"Where are your mothers this morning?" Max asked the children while they were crunching on peppermint discs and root beer barrels.

"Marna will be here shortly," the oldest boy said. "The others are working the market."

"All of them?"

"All but Marna. She's sick today."

While Paul was engaging the children, the other men were opening the boxes. Owen walked over to investigate, unsure what he was supposed to be doing. He saw then the contents of the boxes. Two were filled with canned goods – canned pasta and vegetables. Two were filled with unlabeled gallons of drinking water. One was filled with second-hand teddy bears. Another was crammed full of crumpled second hand clothing, jammed into the box as tightly as possible. Another was filled with what looked like used cell phones.

Owen pulled Luis to the side. "Hey, what am I looking at? I don't understand what we're doing here."

"The boxes are all donations. From the tourists and the churches." Luis did not elaborate further.

"For the children?" Owen prompted.

Max walked over to them. "I'll show him, Padre. You give these children some direction."

"OK," Luis answered. "Go easy on him, Max."

"Follow me," Max directed roughly.

He began to walk from the open beach towards the colorful buildings. From the dock they looked like a cramped but vibrant tribal village. As they got closer to the structure, Owen's stomach began to churn again. The dwellings were not what he expected A sour smelled filled the air. As the sights resolved themselves to his eyes, what looked like beautiful dwellings turned into reality – patchwork tents held up by metal poles and decorated with leaves and shells, sheet metal sheds rusting away and held together with duct tape, pallets torn apart and reconfigured to make shelter against the rain and little else. There was the sound of generators somewhere, but Owen didn't see anything else demonstrating electricity.

"Over there, that's the red light district," Max growled, pointing to a row of actual camping tents, each with a circle doily over the door. "Over there, he pointed to an adjacent section, where the ground was relatively free of debris and there were a few wooden tables, "that's where the children play while their mothers _work_. The younger ones think their mothers work only in the market, but the older ones figure out what the tents are for pretty easily."

Owen swallowed hard. "And your team-"

"We bring food, supplies. We've been bringing things since…" he hesitated, "…since a year. Paul's parents paid for a couple dozen composting toilets so some of the smell is clearing up. We try to bring things at least once a week."

"Why doesn't someone do something?"

"We are doing something, man," he answered defiantly. "What do you think this is?"

"I mean, the government. Shouldn't the state be doing something? This can't be legal," Owen answered.

"Of course it's not legal, man," Max looked at him like he was an idiot. "There are five hundred people living here in Santa Juanita at the last count. Maybe half of them, maybe more, are illegal refugees to begin with. The government doesn't know what to do with them, and the island is far enough out of sight from the nearest town that nobody cares enough to raise a stink, anyway. But even if they did, what would they do? They'd deport half the people and the rest would be homeless and lose their children, their families, their dignity."

Owen gestured at the houses, "This is dignity?"

"This is all they have, man. You can't fix it just by throwing legislation at it, or even throwing money at it. The whole place is broken, but it can only be fixed one person at a time, _m'entiendes_?"

"To be honest, no, I don't understand," Owen answered.

Max shook his head in disgust. "I didn't think you would, man. Luis didn't know what he was doing bringing you out here."

"Hey, hey, hold on," Owen said. "Show me, okay? Show me. I want to understand."

They walked on in brittle silence. Behind the fields of tents and sheds and old campers there was a dense grove of tall knotted trees, old, thin, worn by the sea, but strong, swaying in the breeze.

"These trees block the mainland from the smell of the homes. Well, the smell cleared up a lot, now, but there's still work to be done for that. On the other side, Santa Juanita is a little prettier."

They pushed through the trees and the island looked more like it had from afar. There was a long gravel street and tables were lined up on both sides. The tables were loaded with everything from beaded jewelry to crafts made from seashells to old cell phones – the contents of the boxes made a bit more sense now. "You bring them things to sell?"

"We bring three different kinds of things – food and drink, for obvious reasons. Things to sell – not all of us are in favor of that, because a lot of the money will go to drink and drugs, but some of it gets to the children eventually – and things to care for the children. Clothes, toys, books. Things to keep the children alive and happy for another week until we can figure out how to get them out."

"One at a time," Owen answered.

"Si," Max continued. "One at a time. Take Timmy, for example-"

"The big one?"

"Yes, the older boy. His mother works in the red light district – no surprise there. Most of their mothers do, it's the quickest way to make money on the island. Now Luis has found a job for her, at the church in Dana Point. She can do housekeeping there and greet the people on days when the pastor is not in. She can have room and board. But she won't leave until she makes enough money to buy herself new clothes and shoes. So we are trying to help her by giving her things to sell."

"Can't you just give her the money-"

"-won't take it-"

"or the shoes?"

"-won't take them. Wants to feel like she earned it herself. She has her dignity. Even the job offer is tearing at her, like it's charity. But she's a lucky one, she can prove her citizenship. It should only be a few more days before we can get her to take the job. Then she and Timmy can move off the island and start to do better for themselves. But that's just one story. One person that will let us talk to them. One job we can fill. And some of them get off the island, but then come back again." His expression darkened.

"Who comes here?" Owen asked. "Who is buying from the market, keeping this place going?"

" _Touristicos,_ travelers, sailors. Some come for the crafts and the island atmosphere. It's in brochures," he scowled in disgust. "Some come for a cheap lay. Some come to help, but they don't stay long. Like I said, some get off the island but feel they can't really make it, so they come back."

"Wow," Owen said. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Come on," Max said, then. "Let's get back to the other men. They might need help giving out the food. You have to make sure it goes to the right ones or it will get sold for drug money."

They walked back to the dock in silence.


	11. Night 72

**Night 72**

_Though time gets in the way_

_I want you to stay_

_I want to stay_

When Deb was still alive, life had been better for Grayson. Naturally introverted, Grayson tended to shut up inside himself at the end of each day. He needed time and energy to process everything that he had seen, felt, done, or heard. A long hot shower, an episode of CSI (or three or four episodes) and a cold beer were absolutely necessary.. At the end of the day, Grayson did not want to talk, he just wanted to think and to be.

Opening himself up again was not so natural.

When Deb was alive, she seemed to know when to leave him alone and when to pull him out of his shell. So on just the right night she would return home with a DVD and a bag of low-fat lime-flavored microwave popcorn, or alternatively a new pair of shoes that she absolutely needed to go out and show off to the world tonight before they weren't new anymore.

When Deb died, it felt to Grayson as though the entire world was closed off to him. Oh, from the outside his life was a big success. He was a homeowner and a very successful lawyer. He knew that he was an attractive man, and he dressed well. He drove a nice car. But everything around him felt muffled and dampened after Deb died, as if he were wearing sunglasses and ear muffs all the time and didn't know how to take them off. Deb had always done it for him.

A few times, Jane had shamed him about the different women he dated. How could she possibly understand? Grayson Kent was not a womanizer. To the contrary, he was the only man he knew who was on good speaking terms with nearly every woman he had ever dated. They liked him because he genuinely cared about them, even remembered most of their birthdays (without being reminded by Facebook) and asked about their mothers' health. He dated easily and often because he liked most women and felt drawn to them. And with each woman he kissed, he felt that this might be the one. The one that could pierce the dark bubble that surrounded his life. A few disappointing encounters later - whether it be on date three or after two months of steamy sleepovers - he would realize that she was not the one. And in truth, that was a relief to both of them, because although opening Grayson had come so very naturally to Deb Dobkins, to every other woman that tried, it was challenging, and ultimately unfulfilling. They were happier to just be friends.

Then there was Jane, the dowdy, dismissive lawyer who had gotten Grayson his job. They had met on a case and if Jane had shown any interest in him, he had missed the fact completely. If anything, she seemed a bit condescending. Yet two weeks later, she had called him about the job opening. She must have seen something in his work that she liked.

With no warning at all, Deb died, in the most undignified way possible. Life ended for Grayson. And Jane had been there, for the end of his life and the beginning of this purgatory. He put himself right to work, hardly missing a day at his new job. Plowed right through his workload. Jane became best friends with Deb's best friend - how had that happened? Jane had slid neatly into his life as Stacy's best friend and his work buddy.

His initial impressions of Jane proved totally wrong. Far from being dowdy or condescending, Jane was cute and sweet and he enjoyed being around her. She was sharp as a tack, too, and he loved working on cases with her if for no reason than because they always won. There was more to it than that, though. Jane meshed with him, made him feel good without feeling like she wanted something from him. It was a calm and mutually enjoyable friendship. She offered him unconditional friendship and he needed that badly, but she was also unafraid to call him out when he was wrong.

When Jane started dating Owen, Grayson wasn't close enough to her to notice. It wasn't that he didn't care, he just didn't know. When he met Owen, he was put off by the man's gregarious nature and his overconfidence. When he realized Owen and Jane were dating he didn't really care at first and when he started to be annoyed, he didn't believe that it would last long.

And then came that significant day - the day that he had kissed Stacy for the first time - the day that Stacy told him that Jane was Deb. To this day he puzzled over what she could have meant, She refused to elaborate. At the time she had seemed to be pushing him toward Jane, telling him they belonged together. He believed her right away, but it was too late. Owen had followed Jane to Italy and cemented their relationship. He understood why the man was attracted to Jane, but could not see what Jane saw in him.

Since then he had been pining for her. He felt deep within him, that Jane was the key to unbreaking himself, that she would be able to open him up like Deb did. He found himself watching her constantly, fascinated by her smile, by her mentality, by her unflappable determination. He was drawn her to like a mosquito to a citronella candle. When she smiled at him, he melted. When she agreed with him, he felt that all was right in the world. And Jane angry with him made everything seem futile and fruitless.

Though he had single-handedly taken down their wedding, Grayson hadn't found himself particularly apologetic. If Jane was the one who could make him happy again, he deserved to have her. If Owen hadn't been enough for her, if Grayson's kiss had destroyed what they had, then Owen didn't deserve her anyway. Not that he ever had to begin with.

Now Jane had pushed him away not just at the wedding, but on four further occasions. Owen had disappeared - finally - and been gone for a few weeks now. Was he ever coming back? Supposedly he would be back when Kim went on leave.

Grayson glanced over at the wall clock and realized it was 3am. He was on his fifth episode of CSI New York - season three. There were two crumpled beer cans on his coffee table and a third open that he had never bothered to drink.

When was Kim due? In a few more weeks? Another month? Jane seemed so much more relaxed with the big guy gone. Should he try again? She had kissed him after the concert, and if that phone hadn't rung she might have invited him in.

What would Stacy say? Would she be hurt if he still wanted to give it a try with Jane? Was this even an appropriate time to be dating Jane?

"No sleep for Grayson tonight," he murmured.

Tomorrow he would give it another try. One last try. One last gasp for air before submerging into the murky depths of life again.

* * *

Grayson invited Jane over for a movie - _Empire Records_. It had been one of his favorites and he was always trying to get Deb to watch it with him. He thought it would be appropriate to watch with Jane. It wasn't a love story - did Jane watch love stories? She had been so critical of _Ghost_ he doubted it. _Empire Records_ was a movie people his age watched to remember what it was like to be young and passionate before they forgot how.

He made a big bowl of popcorn and served hard lemonade - Jane declined and had a soda instead. They laughed at the movie together and sang the words along with the songs.

When it was over, Grayson looked over at Jane and grinned. He squeezed her shoulder with the arm that was wrapped around it. "Now this was fun. We should do this more often."

"Yes, we should," she smiled at him. "If we're being nostalgic, I actually have _Breakfast Club_ on DVD, I'll bring it next time. Stacy loves that movie, though she disagrees with the ending-"

"I meant just you and me, Jane," he said softly. "I want to spend more time together."

"Really?" Jane asked.

"Really, Jane," he answered. "In fact," he pulled something out of his pocket, "I'd like to give us a real try. He handed her a small jewelry box. She opened it up and there was a modest diamond ring."

"Wow...well, this is unexpected," Jane said softly.

"I realize it's grossly inappropriate. I know that. I know how stupid it is. Everything about this situation has been completely wrong and I'm sorry about that. But if you'd just give me a chance, I think this... this mess will just be something to laugh about someday. Something to tell the grandkids, you know?"

"Grayson-"

"No, just, hear me out. I know you and Owen were getting married, and you are hurting from the loss of that. I even realize that was mostly my fault. Look, we don't have to rush into it. We can go as slow as you want. We can... we can move away if you want. Leave all this behind. Start over somewhere else. This is just the beginning."

"I'm sorry, Grayson," Jane said sadly.

"Don't-"

"No, listen, Grayson. It's not the beginning. It's.. it needs to be the end."

The words were bricks dropping into Grayson's stomach. "Don't say that, Jane."

"Just listen, Grayson. Out of everybody, this situation has been the least fair to you."

"What-"

"Grayson, please don't talk anymore, just listen."

"Jane-"

"Dammit, Grayson, let me talk," she snapped.

Cowed, he was silent.

"Grayson, we used to have something really special. It was a long, long time ago."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "I don't understand. You and I never-"

"I know, and I can't say anymore than that. I can't explain it to you. But I knew - I know how it was when you lost Deb. And I'm sorry about that." Her eyes sparkled with tears. "I'm sorry you didn't get to say goodbye. I'm so sorry you were alone so long. I'm sorry that Saturdays came and you sat alone at home watching television instead of karaoke night and 2am movies at the Center. "

He stared at her, perplexed.

"I'm sorry that you and Deb never got to get married, and I'm sorry that you'll never have the children you were supposed to have. I'm sorry that the family reunions at Disneyland were cancelled. I'm so, so sorry."

"Why are you saying all this, Jane? I haven't even been thinking about Deb. I've been thinking about you. How can you even know - did Stacy tell you all of this? Is that what this is about? Is this coming from Stacy?"

"No," she said sadly. "This has nothing to do with Stacy. This is me saying goodbye, Grayson."

"Why, Jane? Give me one good goddamn reason. I know you love me, too, I can see it in your eyes."

"Because I'm not who I used to be, Grayson. I've been trying to be that girl again, and I'm just not. And I'm not who you need, either. I used to - I used to be able to just take you for who you were, but I'm not anymore. I mean, I can't anymore. I see you so differently. Not worse, just. I'm sorry, Grayson, I just can't explain it."

"I don't believe you," Grayson said. He tilted his head down and kissed her. For a moment, it felt as if she would respond to him. Her lips trembled open and she made a small groan, a sound of warmth and passion. She sounded exactly like Deb when she did that. It fueled him, drove him to want her more. She pushed him away just slightly, but he cupped the back of her head with his hand and kissed her again. She pushed him away more firmly, then.

"No, Grayson. I've made my choice," black makeup was trailing down her eyes now and she looked so sad - not because of him, but for him.

He scooted backward away from her on the couch, ashamed of the anger that flared up inside of him. "At least tell me why," he whispered. "Why him and not me?"

"I'm not choosing between you and him, Grayson. I could never have done that. I'm choosing between who I used to be and who I want to be. Can you understand that at all?"

"No, and I don't think it even makes sense. I think you're wrong. You and I are great together. We have great chemistry. You - you make me happy. I feel strong and good around you. We're so good together in court, too. Don't I make you feel good, too, Jane?"

"Grayson, yes, you do, you always have. But it was never enough. The good you made me feel was too easy for me. You always approved of me and admired me, and that was good, it was beautiful and it was comfortable. But it wasn't good _for me_. As soon as we started this again, I felt old feelings creeping back in again, things I don't need to feel again. I felt jealousy and pettiness and the need to be the center of your universe. And I can't be the center of your universe again, Grayson. I'm not that kind of girl anymore."

"You're not making any sense, Jane," he said thickly.

"I'm sorry," she said sadly. "I can't really make sense."

"Please don't do this, Jane," he was crying, then, crying again, and her arms were around him and she laid his head against her chest and she sang softly to him, "lucky we're in love in every way, lucky to have stayed where we have stayed, lucky to be coming home someday..."

He looked up at her again in wonder, "That was Deb's song, how did you...?"

"Grayson," she said, "You'll be lucky again, soon, I promise. But it won't be me. You have to let go of the past and move forward. I had to do it, too. I don't want to lose your friendship, but if we need to be apart for awhile for you to be able to heal, then just tell me."

The tears were done, then, and he felt strangely calm. He knew now that he hadn't been wrong about Jane. She would have been the one to make him feel like Deb did. He was too late. But he didn't want to lose her forever, and there was still some connection between her and Deb. He would have to let it go.

He reached over to the end table and handed her a box of tissues.

"Thank you," she said.

"You've got something there on your face," he said with a small chuckle. He made a big swirling circle over her cheek.

"Oh, god," she chuckled in response. "Mascara?"

"You could pass for Alice Cooper right now," he answered.

"May I use the bathroom, please?"

"You know where it is."

She exited and he picked up the ring box, turning it over in his hands. He should probably return it before anyone else saw it and felt sorry for him.

Instead, after Jane left, with a hug and a promise to stay friends, he just popped it into the top drawer of his dresser. Maybe Jane would be right, and he'd get lucky sooner rather than later.


	12. Day 76

**Early Morning 73**

_I don't need to be your only one_

_I don't need your comforting_

_I just need you with me_

Grayson's doorbell rang at 1:45am, two hours almost to the minute after Jane left. He was still awake in front of the television, still wearing his dress shirt. He frowned and went to the front door, peering through the peep hole. It was Stacy, in her pink striped pajamas and a pair of black ballet flats. He opened the door.

"Is everything ok?" he asked.

"Jane came home and she was crying," Stacy said blankly. "She said... she said she dumped you. I didn't even realize you were a thing."

"We weren't 'a thing,' but I wanted us to be," he said honestly. "I thought Jane did, too."

"But you're not going to be a thing now."

"No," he answered. "We're not."

"Is Owen coming back?"

"I.. I guess. We didn't talk about Owen. She just said she was sorry and we had to move forward."

"Oh. Are you going to do that, Grayson?"

"I'm going to try."

"Well.. may I come in?"

He stepped back from the doorway and folded her into his arms, "That would be nice," he whispered.

* * *

**Day 75**

On day 75, Owen had determined to do nothing all day. Nora was running a vacuum in his bedroom. Little Nicquito, Luis's great-nephew, was running around on the large wooden deck chasing a butterfly between the floral planters. Owen himself was barefoot, sitting at the large wooden picnic table playing solitaire.

"Owen," little Nicquito called, "come and play with me!"

Owen laughed, "What are you playing, Nicquito?"

"Play hide and seek with me, Owen!"

Owen shook his head and chuckled, "All right, what should I count to?"

"Count to a million, Owen!"

"All right. One... two... three... a million!"

Nora walked out of the french doors and on to the deck just then. "Nico, are you bothering Mr. Owen? I think he is trying to play a game by himself."

Owen waved her concern away, "It's all right, Nora. He's a good kid. He doesn't bother me. Thanks for the vacuuming. I'm sure it looks nice."

"No need to thank me," she smiled warmly, "It's relaxing work and Mr. Vann pays me very well. Most people aren't blessed with work they can do while caring for their grandson."

"Find me, Owen, find me!"

Owen got up out of his seat and crouched into a hunting bear position. "Oooh, where are you Nico? I can't find you!"

A little giggle erupted from behind one of the planters, so Owen did not look over there.

"Hmmm, is he in the ocean? Buried in a sand dune, perhaps?"

"I'm right HERE, Owen!"

Owen laughed and scooped the boy up in his arms, setting him down on the bench he was hiding under. "Found you!" he exclaimed.

For the first time, he wondered if his child was a girl or a boy, and then with a twist of his stomach, whether he was going to be raising the child or not.

As if reading his thoughts, Nora sat down beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Do you have children?" She asked him.

"No, but, I'm going to be a father, soon. Just not sure if things will work out with the mother yet."

She stood up and hugged him, a gentle, maternal squeeze. "I will pray to the Blessed Mother for you, Mr. Owen. It will be all right, you will see."

He smiled at her, " _Gracias_ , Nora."

"Tomorrow evening, we have a big family dinner at our home. Come and eat with the family. Luis will be there to bless the meal and it will be good for your spirit. Might be good for your Spanish accent, too," she chuckled.

He laughed, "Yes. Thank you. I would love to be there."

Just then, his phone buzzed with a text. "Daises looking a bit down. So's Jane's face. Just saying. -T"

His mouth was a fixed line of determination. No more playing around. He was going all in.

* * *

**Day 76**

An hour after Jane arrived at work, another bouquet was delivered, confirming Jane's theory. Last night the daisies had finally started shedding their petals on her desk, so she had taken them home. As soon as she took one bouquet home, another one appeared on her desk the next day. If she left the bouquet there, no new one appeared.

Each delivery had been nicer than the last. The first bouquet was a dozen fine red roses. Considering she'd had dinner with Grayson the night before, and the generic nature of the bouquet, Jane hadn't been sure whether the bouquet was from Grayson or Owen. She was perplexed and a little ashamed, so she took them home right away.

She was surprised when another bouquet was delivered the very next day. This one was an elaborate thing, an enormous monochrome display. A wide-mouthed white glazed vase was stuffed with white roses, baby's breath, Queen Anne's lace, and little white star flowers. It looked almost like a bridal bouquet. She knew for sure that this was from Owen - Grayson would never choose anything so elaborate or so non-traditional for office delivery. It was too big to leave on the desk, and she wasn't sure if she wanted Grayson to see it or not, so she relegated it to side table duty.

Five days later, she finally took that one home and put it in the trash.

The next day, a new bouquet arrived. This one was lovely, too: hand-dyed rainbow roses. These were more modest than the last bouquet, but Jane really loved the colors. She'd heard of rainbow roses, but never seen any in real life. She left them on her desk until the petals faded.

The day the petals were starting to fall to her desk, a new bouquet arrived. This one was a dozen cheerful pink gerber daisies. They made Jane smile.

Today's was a little different though. It was a simple cobalt blue vase with 7 wooden dowel rods poking out the top, each painted green. At the end of each rod was a generously sized chocolate cover strawberry. Nothing fancy, just chocolate and strawberries. The strawberries were surrounded by a bunch of babies' breath. Jane's sense of smell was heightened by her altered hormones from the pregnancy and so the fresh, sweet, sharp scent of the ripe red berries filled her whole office, mingling with the warm, bitter, seductive aroma of dark chocolate.

Unlike the previous bouquets, this one actually had a note. It read:

_Kim or no Kim, Grayson or no Grayson, I'll be home in this many days._

_-O_

_p.s. Enjoy for me and remember. Sorry for not playing fair._

Grinning, feeling better than she had in nearly three months, Jane slid a strawberry off of its wooden stem and took a bite. The chocolate was thick and rich and the berry was so juicy. It took her back to that night, their last night together. She remembered again the feeling of Owen's cheek against hers, kissing his mouth and tasting the strawberries on his lips. Face flushing, she remembered that he had teasingly crushed one of the berries against her skin, leaving a sticky, fruity stain. The stain hadn't lasted long under his attention.

" _You are at_ work _, Jane Bingum_ ," she reminded herself sternly. "Pull yourself together." She popped the rest of the berry into her mouth and decided to take the rest of them home to enjoy by herself at home in private.

Not playing fair, indeed.

She wasn't sure she wanted to wait 7 days to see him again.

* * *

**Night 76**

Luis drove Owen to the home of his brother's family for a big dinner. Apparently they all liked him and enjoyed spending time with him. Owen was more than happy to have the company and he felt very relaxed among the familial chatter, even though more than half of it was Spanish. Nora was making home baked pizzas, so he excused himself to the kitchen to see if she needed help.

Luis was already in the kitchen with her. he had flour on his nose and was laying pepperoni over top of cheese.

"It smells delicious," Owen commented.

" _Gracias_ , Owen," Nora smiled. Owen noticed that in her own home she dropped the "Mr." from in front of his name. That made him feel even more welcome. "And thank you for coming to dinner. We are honored to have you as a guest."

"The honor is all mine," he smiled, "I just wanted to come back and see if I could lend a hand," he said.

"Yes, you can take those pitchers on the counter and fill them with ice water. Yes, those ones. Thank you. Luis is finishing up the toppings and then he is going to put the last of the pizzas in the oven. If you two have everything in hand, I will run out and grab some flowers from the garden and some fresh parsley to garnish. Be right back."

Luis smiled as she walked away.

"What an amazing woman, _no_?" Luis commented.

"She certainly works hard," Owen answered. "I gather she and Tony help Nico with the little guy full time, then?"

" _Si_ , Nico lives at home with his parents and his son. His wife left a few years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's all right. She was no good for him. She brought out the worst in him, Owen. We were all relieved when she left. Nicquito doesn't even remember her. Nora is a good grandmother to him, she gives him a good example of womanhood. _De verdad_ , Nicquito will grow up with the finest example of womanhood I have ever seen."

"Ha!" Owen laughed. "You old softie! You love her."

"Aha, this is no secret, Owen. Everyone knows I love her. She was mine when I was 16, the love of my life, but when she met Tony, she was lost me. She loved him better."

"Wow. So, what, you never married, then? Just hung around your brother's family for the rest of your life?"

"In a manner of speaking," the older man laughed, "But, Owen, I have married my fair share of women."

"I knew it, you old dog," Owen grinned.

Nora was back in then, with a bunch of fresh parsley. "Out of my way, gentlemen. Are the pizzas out of the oven yet, Luis?"

"Si, _corazon,_ " he answered with a smile.

"Then take them to the big table. Owen, take out the pitchers. The children are hungry. Everything is nearly ready!"

Everyone seated themselves at a long wooden table in a well-lit dining room. The room was white with wide open arches and the walls were coverd from top to bottom with photographs framed in dark wood. Luis sat at one end of the table, with Nico and Owen flanking him. Tony sat at the other end, with Nora to his left and another woman to his right. There were at least twenty other family members lining the long tables.

"Will you bless us please, Padre Luis?" Nora asked softly. Despite her tone, her voice was heard across the whole table. When she spoke, everyone was listening.

" _Si. Gloria al Padre y al Hijo y al Espíritu Santo. Como era en el principio, ahora y siempre, por los siglos de los siglos. Amén_."

" _Amén_ ," the table chorused.


	13. Night 76

**Night 76**

* * *

_The kingdom of the heavens is now advancing_   
_Invade my heart invade, this broken town_   
_Two things you told me_   
_That you are strong and you love me_

* * *

Everyone at the massive table had as much as they could possibly eat. They ate their fill of the pizzas, then Nora brought out a selection of pies. Owen was feeling guilty for eating so poorly since the wedding. He realized that he was acting masochistically and it needed to stop. He had one large slice of pizza, a generous portion of salad, and passed on pie and a result, he was feeling fairly self-satisfied when dinner was done. He was soaking up the conversation around him, basking in the low energetic hum that pulsed through the room, smiling at everything said, even when he understood less than half of it.

He was too deep in this natural buzz to initially register the shock and fear on Paul's face when he clambered into the dining room and whispered into Luis' s ear. Even when the blood drained from Luis' s face, it did not alarm him. When Luis jumped up, pushed away from the table, signaled to his brother and nephew and barked, " _Vamonos_!" There was something in his tone that roused Owen from his stupor. He got up and followed them to the next room.

The men were speaking too fast for Owen to pick out even a word or two, but every now and then, Paul would cut in with an English word or phrase. "No, it's a tropical storm, of course not a hurricane... at least four feet under...definitely...yes, it could break... I already called the National Guard, they're on the way..."

"What's going on?" Owen asked.

"A storm heading for Santa Juanita," Luis answered curtly. "We have to go now. Paul, take Nora and Nico and go down to the church. Get all the blankets you can find."

"Wait, I don't understand. Tropical storms don't hit the west coast. It just doesn't work like that."

"You are right, Owen, they do not. The islanders don't even know to be afraid. They have no shelter, no high ground. The children... we have to go."

"Okay, lets go," Owen.

"No. Not you, Owen," Luis said firmly. You've only been down once. It's going to be very dangerous. I can't ask you to sail with us. The water is going to be treacherous. The storm could hit at any time, we may be in great danger."

"Please, Luis, let me go. I might not know the water, but you could use an extra pair of hands, couldn't you?"

"Yes, Owen, I could but -"

"That's settled, then. I'm going."

The tropical storm was 3 hours away, but it was a two hour trip to the island. There was no way that the four of them could evacuate the entire island, but there was also no guarantee that the National Guard could get there before them. The plan was to race to the island, evacuate all the children and as many others as they could safely put on their boat (which wasn't many) and speed toward the nearest town. Paul would be calling ahead to try and find a docking point for them and arrange for transportation back to the church, where the children would be able to sleep.

The storm hadn't settled upon them yet but the water felt choppier than the last trip. Owen's stomach was churning again, a horrible combination of pizza settling into his stomach and terror settling into his brain. With Owen, Luis, Tony, and Nico, they had men enough to sail the large boat but it was tight and they were working constantly. The water was forbiddingly calm.

By the time they arrived at Santa Juanita, the wind was starting to rise. The atmosphere over the island was oppressive and dark. The docked at the backside of the island The children were running around playing tag, throwing their scrawny bodies into the gusts of wind. Sitting dejectedly at one of the tables was Max.

"What is Max doing here?" Owen asked Luis, shouting to be heard over the wind.

"He took his own boat down an hour before we did," Luis answered. "Max, what the hell were you thinking? Your little yacht isn't big enough to make it through the storm. You need to leave now and head straight for the mainland."

"No, Luis. They'll never get them all off. I'm staying with them."

"¿ _Estás loco_ , Max? We don't know how bad the storm is going to be yet, but it will almost certainly devastate the island. You could die."

"Yes, maybe, but I will die with them."

"You are crazy. We need you. The family needs you. The church needs you."

Max refused to respond.

Luis stared hard at his friend. " _Dios mio_... _bueno_ , but at least help us with the children. They're afraid. We need to find their mothers if possible and get them together below, _mijo_."

"I will help you, yes," Max responded. "I know where most of the mothers are. But I am not riding in with you. Give my place to one of the women."

"Max, we might need your help on the trip back. Can you not see how the waves are rising?"

Owen cut in. "Listen, not to interrupt this touching little chat, but we really need to keep moving," Owen felt like an ass, but the sky was darkening further as they spoke and the water was beginning to get choppy. There wouldn't be any point to their potentially suicidal trip if they couldn't at least save the children.

* * *

It took almost forty minutes to round together the little crew of children and young women. Most of the islanders were clustered together in the sturdier structures. A few came out and asked questions. Luis answered them calmly and honestly. Yes, a storm was coming. It might be a tropical storm, definitely not a hurricane. Yes, they should be scared. Yes, rescuers were on the way to try and help. They could only take the children for now.

Owen expected there to be a riot when Luis answered so honestly, but the people seemed to respect his words. He wasn't sure if it was a respect for Luis's apparent authority, or genuine concern for the children. One teenage boy even helped the smaller children pack up their precious belongings and walked them to the dock.

After they loaded up all the children and the mothers, Luis drew Owen to the side. " _Hermano_ , I have made a decision. I am going to stay with Max."

Owen shook his head, "No, you're not," he said with finality. "Just because Max is being crazy doesn't mean you should, too."

"No," Luis said softly. "Max is the wise one. But I still need to get the children back, and I believe you and Tony and Nico can do this. You have good understanding of the boat, you know how to read the charts and how to respond. My brother and his son can handle the rest."

"Not without you, we can't."

"Yes, you can. They will need you, Owen, but the three of you can do it." He turned and addressed teenage boy. "¿ _Mijo, puedes trabajar?"_

_"Si, padre. ¡Por supuesto!"_

_"¿Hablas ingles?"_

"Yes, sir!"

"Good man," Luis patted the boy on the back and then pushed him towards Owen. "Here, my brother, I give you this boy in my place. He will work for you. When the National Guard arrives, I will return home with them if I am able."

Owen was angry now, "This is ridiculous. What can you possibly do for these people? Either the National Guard will be able to evacuate them or they will not. You staying is just one more body for them to pick up."

"Owen," Luis's voice was louder than Owen had ever heard it. "We have known each other for only a few days, yes? But I consider you a great friend. There is no way you can understand what I am doing or why Max would stay. You have only a few pages of a very long story. In answer to your question, I will stay and give the people peace. I will hear their confessions and grant them absolution."

Owen scoffed, "Oh, you're a big holy man, now? Well, I'm sure that will be a great comfort when they are drowning."

"Laugh, my friend. You can not understand, as I said. I do not fault you for that. Regardless, what I do is not in your charge. However, what I am asking you to do is. If you do not think you are capable of navigating then I will go with you, and this boy will have to stay here instead."

Owen's heart twisted, "Now that's not fair, Luis."

"We are out of time, Owen. Will you do this for me, and for the boy, and for the children, yes or no?"

Owen kicked the dock as hard as he could and turned away from his friend, beginning to release the boat.

"Yes or no?" he called.

"YES!" he roared in angry affirmation. Already soaking wet, he stormed into the water.

"Owen!"

He whipped around and glared at the man.

"Tell Nora and Nico that I love them!"

"No, you tell them yourself!" he yelled.

* * *

With Luis, the return trip would have already been harrowing. Without him, it was disastrous. Tony knew the way to shore, but couldn't speak English excepting the most basic navigational terms. Owen could read the instruments and knew how to respond, but his body was tired and he could only do so much. With every twist, he was torn between trying to communicate with the little crew and killing himself trying to do everything himself. Worse, among the three men, there was no clear leader. Each of them was fairly equal in skill and experience with sailing. The teenage boy - whose name was Marco - acted as an interpreter and mediator, shouting back and forth between the men above the roar of the waves. The storm was beginning to rise and the water was becoming dangerously choppy as they lost sight of the land.

25 minutes into the trip, they should have been halfway there. Owen was starting to feel his age again. He had already lost his dinner over the side of the ship. He wasn't seasick, just scared and tired. Nico and Tony were doing a good job at keeping them on track and keeping the boat upright.

30 minutes later they should have arrived at the shore. But they had not. Instead, they could see nothing around them but pitching water and thick green sky.

10 minutes after that, the waves turned into whitecaps. Marco was throwing up now and his eyes were full of tears.

"Marco," Owen shouted. "Go down below and make sure the children are sitting still. They are probably terrified, can you please help them stay calm? Luis brought enough life jackets for them, can you make sure they are all wearing them?"

The boy nodded, trembling.

Owen had personally checked life jackets before they left the island, and he doubted the children were doing much more than crying in their mother's arms, but the boy needed to be brave, and it would be easier for him to do it with the children than it would with Owen. As it was, Owen was afraid that they weren't going to make it.

"Why the hell did I let the old man guilt me like that?" he wondered aloud. The wind was so loud that even talking to himself at full voice no one could hear him. "Why didn't I just tell him I couldn't do it?"

The ship pitched nastily again and Owen, distracted, went tumbling down. He grabbed his line to keep from falling off the deck, but it didn't save him from the slipper deck as his legs twisted under him. He grabbed at a rope and heard the nasty crack of bone. He shouted in pain. Even that was barely audible.

Nico, on the far side of the sails, saw him go down and ran over to him, babbling in Spanish. Owen couldn't make out a single word. Everything around him faded to black.

* * *

Back in Dana Point, Nora and Nicquito were finished preparing a place for the children to sleep. They had laid out sleeping bags, bottled water, teddy bears, and granola bars. They had cleaned up Nora's giant kitchen. Frightened and sad, Nora had run out of things to do while waiting for the men to return with their precious cargo. Six hours had passed since the men left and she had heard nothing. It was two o'clock in the morning. The storm had passed by.

She drove down to the church again to see if they had returned and not called. Nothing. She called Paul on the cell phone again - he confirmed that he was still waiting at the dock for them and had heard nothing. She drove down to Senor Vann's house, thinking perhaps Owen had returned first. The house was dark, but there was a strange vehicle in the driveway.

Quietly, Nora opened the front door - it was unlocked - and looked around. There was noone in the kitchen or the livingroom. She looked into the bedroom - it was dark. Then back to the kitchen.

" _Abuelita_ ," Nicquito hissed, tugging on his grandmother's shirt. "¿ _Quien es la mujer en la cama de Owen_?"

"A woman, Nico? Really?" Nora looked at her grandson quizzically.

" _Si, abuela_."

Nora peeked into the bedroom and her eyebrows went up in surprise. Sure enough, there was a woman asleep in Owen's bed, laying on top of the bedclothes. Uncertain whether to wake the woman and tell her that Owen was missing - or even whether this woman might be an unrelated friend of Señor Vann - Nora quietly slipped away.

" _No se_ , Nico. We'll ask Owen tomorrow, ok? _Probablemente, ella es un ángel._ "

" _Lo creo que sí_ ," Nicquito agreed.

"Are you tired, Nico?"

"Si, senora."

"Let's go back to the church and you can sleep in one of the sleeping bags. I'm going to make some phone calls."

* * *

Jane awoke to the swinging of a door and the sound of shuddered sobbing. She sat up quickly. Where was she? Owen's friend's beach house. Was she in bed? She must have fallen asleep waiting for him. She vaguely remembered sitting down on the bed around midnight, disappointed that he was out so late, especially with the heavy rain. She had wondered we he could be so late - a bar? a friend's house?

She got up and walked out to the livingroom. Owen was there. Any worry she had about him out running around was quickly eclipsed by concern for his well being. He was kneeling on the ground, his head on the couch, arms crossed against his chest. The sobbing sound was coming from him.

"Owen-" she whispered.

His head turned toward her. His face was filthy and his hair was matted damply to his head. His clothes were soaking wet as well, she noticed, and filthy. "Jane-?" he stammered.

"Owen, I - oh my God, Owen, what happened?"

"The..." he sounded immensely tired. "The children. We had to... save the children."

"Are you - are you delirious, Owen?"

"No," he huffed. "Really, we... sailed back from the island... Tony and Nico and I... we ... they're... at the church now."

"What children? Owen... oh my God, Owen is your arm broken?"

"Could be," he said slowly. "Um, yes. I think it is." He nodded.

"How did you get here?"

"I... drove." He coughed lightly and smirked. "Good thing it was my left arm."

"That is _not_ funny. That is so dangerous. Is there a hospital here, somewhere?"

"Nope... no hospitals anywhere near Dana Point."

She glared at him again.

He tried to return her glare, but couldn't. "Your car has GPS, right?" her asked her. "I don't... I don't know where..."

"Fair enough. "

"I should change first," he said. "Can you help me?"

"Oh, like they really care at the emergency room," she said. "I see right through that trick, mister. Come on, I'll help you get back in the car."

* * *

Under the thick veil of medication and partial consciousness, Owen still sensed Jane there. He barely heard her voice, but then another voice joined hers.

"Jane Bingum?"

"Yes?" Her voice was bright and friendly, but cautious.

"You are Owen's woman?" he knew the voice, the small older man he had been spending his time with. What was his name? Owen could remember the face but not the name. There was no smile in the man's voice.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I am," she responded. She increased the level of friendliness in her voice, he knew, she was trying to engage the man, trying to get him to smile at her.

"I have a message for you," he responded curtly.

"A message? From Owen?"

"No, Jane. From my boss."

That was all Owen heard.

* * *

When he finally woke for real, Jane was still there. She was sitting in the fold out lounge chair in the corner of the room, wrapped in at least two hospital blankets, with her eyes half closed and her mouth half open.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.


End file.
